


Welcome to Camp Sweetwater

by twilightvxen



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, F/M, Fluff because I don't know how to write anything else, Jughead is a grump unless he's around Betty, Pining, Slow Burn, basically every one is a camp counselor, chuck is an asshole as per usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-11-29 02:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11431116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightvxen/pseuds/twilightvxen
Summary: If anyone were to ask Jughead where the middle of nowhere was, he wouldn’t give a generic answer like the Sahara or some old age ghost town deep in the Midwest. No, for him, the middle of nowhere is 45 minutes north of Greendale and twice that many miles away from Riverdale on a little plot of land he affectionately referred to as his very own slice of hell - otherwise known as Camp Sweetwater.ORJughead and Betty are camp counselors, and she makes him hate this place a little less every day.





	1. Chapter 1

If anyone were to ask Jughead where the middle of nowhere was, he wouldn’t give a generic answer like the Sahara or some old age ghost town deep in the Midwest. No, for him, the middle of nowhere is 45 minutes north of Greendale and twice that many miles away from Riverdale on a little plot of land he affectionately referred to as his very own slice of hell - otherwise known as Camp Sweetwater.

 

Camp Sweetwater is where nightmares come true, but more specifically where nightmare _kids_ come for the summer when their parents can’t handle them any longer. Their lives get put into the hands of teenage counselors, but Jughead thinks that if anyone wasn’t safe at camp, it would be _him_ and not the kids who don’t seem to understand the concepts of ‘playing nice’ and ‘respecting your elders’. He doesn’t know why anyone would choose to come here, but most kids seem to like the camp for reasons he can’t understand.

 

The whole reason Jughead himself is at the one place he truly cannot bear to be is almost comical. Jellybean had heard about camp from one of her friends when they were still young, and begged their parents to let her go. Intrigued by the prospect of a Jellybean-free summer, Jughead had combined efforts with her in the struggle of persuading their parents to pay the surprisingly low fee and let her go to camp.

 

Unfortunately, Jughead was too young to recognize the glint in his father’s eyes at his son's sudden interest in an overnight camp, and within a month he was whisked away to the four acres of forest he would call home for the next six weeks.

 

The next four summers invited multiple fights into the Jones household over camp, but it was three against one, and each year Jughead came out of every argument with a permanent frown stretched across his face and arms glued over his chest in defiance until the day came for them to be dropped off again.

 

(After a while, Jughead began to suspect that the real reason he and JB still went to camp each year was to avoid _other_ arguments that took place in their absence.)

 

At 14, he was resigned to the inevitable two hour car ride that would seal his fate as a camper. That is until Clifford Blossom, camp director and mess hall tyrant, offered him a spot on camp staff as a counselor. Jughead figured that if he was going to be forced to go every summer until high school was over, he might as well get payed for it.

 

So for the final time, he stands under the worn wooden arch, emblazoned with the words 'Welcome to Camp Sweetwater' across the top, that symbolizes the gates to his metaphorical hell and squares his shoulders, ready to take on whatever devils camp throws at him this year. With an eager Jellybean by his side, duffel bag in hand and beanie nestled firmly on his head, Jughead takes his last first step onto campgrounds, and the sound of twigs crunching beneath his boots feels like a goodbye.

 

It’s only six in the morning, and if Jughead will admit to liking anything about this place, it’s the peace and quiet it offers at times like these. The sun is high in the sky, and only a few early birds are chirping, which further adds to the serenity of the scene before him. If he didn’t know better, he would say that the camp offers a sort of calming atmosphere, but eight years being tackled and forcibly held down by other kids had unfortunately taught him better.

 

He can’t decide whether the shudder that runs down his spine  is from the chilly morning air, or recalling the memories that seem to haunt him whenever he comes back.

 

In front of him, Jughead knows that the land goes on for acres, but his view is blocked by mile-high tree after the next. Hundreds of fir trees of all shapes and sizes line the ground in front of him, and the image of prison bars pops into his mind before he grimaces and shakes his head to clear the thought. Green and brown are the only colors in sight, and the air smells clean and crisp compared to the city smog he’s used to. If it weren’t for _everything else_ about Camp Sweetwater, he thinks he wouldn’t mind the getaway that much.

 

Usually this moment would only be bitter, but this year is his last, and it feels more bitter-sweet than he anticipated. Gazing up, he almost feels lonely, like he’s the only one experiencing this right now. Obviously he knows JB is right behind him, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement (because apparently being a first time counselor renews the joy for a little while longer). He just can’t shake the weird feeling of nostalgia that takes over him.

 

If he has time before others get here, he might go down to the river where him and other staff his age used to spend late nights complaining about their least favorite kids, or where Archie and Reggie would gush over the older female counselors who seemed untouchable to them as pre-teens. They used to dip their feet in the water and push each other in on dares, and although Jughead never took part in their rolling list of pranks, he still appreciates the laughs they had brought him.

 

On the far east side of the campgrounds, a group of hammocks hang between the firs that stand together. This little corner of camp was another getaway that Jughead visited often. First year staff members weren’t allowed to use the retreat, but after that, the boys frequented the space at least once a day when they were given breaks, and the girls joined them whenever they were free.

 

The counselors were separated on opposite sides of the camp by gender, mainly because the campers were separated as well, and at least one counselor of the same gender was required to sleep in the campers cabins to watch over them. However, there was an added counselor-only cabin in the middle of campgrounds where Jughead hid away when he couldn’t handle to noise or amount of people anymore. He knew it wasn’t the nicest thing to dump a group of rowdy kids on Archie each day, but he never complained, so Jughead never stopped.

 

He is shaken out of his rose colored reverie by a startling whoop from behind him.

 

“This summer is going to be the best one yet Juggie, I can _feel_ it in my bones.”

 

“That’s just the hike up here catching up to you, I’m sure you’ll feel it even more tomorrow.” Sarcasm drips from his words at Jellybean’s overzealous exclamation, but something in him is glad that the thrill is still alive inside his little sister, because he knows it was knocked out of him the second he stepped foot through that arch eight years ago.

 

“Don’t be so lame Jug, I know you secretly love it here.”

 

“I’ll never admit to that so quit trying to make me.”

 

“Oh well you might not like the camp, but I do know something else you like here,” a mischievous grin slips onto her face, and with finger pointed at her older brother, Jellybean teases, “or should I say _someone_ else you like here.”

 

“You’re being ridiculous Jelly, leave me alone and go pick a cabin or something, try and make yourself useful. You know, being a counselor comes with a lot of chores. It’s not all fun and games.”

 

“I bet you it is, but you’re such an old man and wouldn’t recognize fun if it hit you in the face.”

 

“Hey! Remember who drove you here and who could easily leave you behind without regrets.” He loves his sister, but really, it’s too early for her to be making fun of him when he hasn’t even had coffee _or_ food yet.

 

“Like you would. I’m going to go set up my cabin now thank you very much, at least there I won’t have to listen to you complain.” He sees her tongue poked out at him from between her lips, and a waggle of her eyebrows before she takes off in between the trees. He can only shake his head at her antics, but he’s thankful for her departure, because it gives him time to follow her lead and set up his own belongings somewhere.

 

He starts hiking in the opposite direction of his sister towards the cabin unofficially reserved for him and Archie, along with their campers. It’s a long wooden building, but it’s equipped with more amenities that the outside appearance gives off. Thanks to the bulging wallet of Clifford Blossom, each cabin has a running water and a complete bathroom, separated from the rest of the cabin by sliding doors. Four wooden bunk beds line the walls opposite of each other, and two more rest against the wall on either side of the door. It’s a short walk from the main entrance to camp, but when Jughead stands outside on the small porch, he can envision the familiar set up inside with ease.

 

After stepping inside, he chooses a bunk in the right corner closest to the door. It takes him barely any time at all to unroll his mattress pad and sleeping bag, and he knows those few seconds will provide him a lifetime's worth of comfort compared to cold hard pads already on each bed. A careless kick hides his bag of clothes under the frame, and with hands shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket, Jughead walks back outside and slams the cabin door behind him.

 

The loud noise startles a group of birds a few yards away from the building, and they quickly flutter up and away from the offending noise. It makes Jughead sigh, and he looks around for a few moments before skipping down the steps two at a time. It’s automatic, keeping his head down and trudging his way back towards the main campgrounds where the kitchen is located. He’s spent many mornings (and nights) taking this walk, and today is no different.

 

Each year the adults arrive a day early to set everything up and stock the refrigerators. This is something he learned early on after making friends with the head cook during his second year as an actual camper. Every morning Jughead is guaranteed to find a coffee pot ready for use, and his favorite bagels front and center on the shelves holding bread for the week.

 

It’s something he’s extremely grateful for, on this day more than others. It takes time and caffeine to mentally prepare himself for the onslaught of children he’s about to face, which is the main reason he and Jellybean come so early each year.

 

He makes the trek mindlessly, and when he arrives, cracks open the door to peek inside to see if there is anyone he needs to avoid. It’s his lucky day (at least in this respect), and he steps fully inside, shutting the door with a muffled click. His eyes immediately find their treasure, and he makes a beeline for the coffee makers.

 

Dropping a filter in the top and scooping the generic grind in is routine for Jughead, and it’s become rhythmic at this point. He lets the top fall with a loud clatter and hits the start button while simultaneously hip checking the cupboard door that houses the supplies closed. While waiting for the timer to go off, he quickly steps over to the wall on his right and peruses the selection of bagels before grabbing his usual cinnamon raisin off the shelf.

 

A few minutes later, he’s happily munching on an unevenly sliced half slathered in cream cheese and leaning against the cabinets when a bell chimes, signaling the finish of his coffee. After pouring himself a large cup, he sidles over to the fridge and finds his favorite creamer waiting at eye level. When all of his food is prepared, Jughead walks back to his cabin with a kick in his step and a significantly better mood.

 

He sits on the bench to the left of the door. It’s a great spot to look out and enjoy the scenery, and in the distance glints of sun and rushing water can be seen if he looks from the right angle. After second thought, he stands up again and disappears through the cabin doors for a few seconds before reemerging with something new in his hands. A black leather journal, worn at the binding, knows his true feelings about this camp more than anyone else here.

 

Now, he’ll using it to gather inspiration, to remember the next six weeks in his own words. He’s doing his two favorite things, writing and eating. He could get lost in the flow of words that appear on his page. Words about the swaying branches above him, lyrics about the still air that feels brand new but familiar all the same. He could get lost, and he does. Writing and sipping his coffee soothes him and he thinks that if every morning starts out like this, he might just enjoy his last summer here.

 

He writes for what feels like hours, and the amount he has on paper would take that much time for anyone else. Unfortunately, his quiet is interrupted just over 60 minutes later. The growing sound of human voices is enough to make him groan as he shuts his journal closed. He couldn’t forget that this was _camp_ and of course his solitude would be disrupted at eight when all the other counselors started to arrive.

 

He can make out two voices, one shouts loudly with glee and Jughead can immediately tell that Archie is on his way to greet him. When they get closer, Reggie’s voice floats through the air, and Jughead is mildly surprised to know he managed to worm his way out of football training camp again this year to come here.

 

He’s lost in thought again when a flash of red throws him back into the bench, and a pair of arms wrap around his shoulder with a tight squeeze.

 

“Jug! Man am I glad to see you here, I thought you finally would have cracked and quit this year.”

 

“Hey Arch, it’s good to see you too. You know me though, somehow I can never manage to escape this place.”

 

“Don’t kid yourself Jug, we all know you love it.”

 

“Why does everyone keep saying that? Also, you saw me two days ago, what’s got you so excited all of a sudden?”

 

“Is Jellybean teasing you again? Don’t listen to her, she lives to bother you,” Archie says with a grunt, hopping up onto the porch railing to face him. “And I don’t know, but this year feels different, it feels like my year to make my mark. I think I’m finally going to ask Ronnie out this summer.”

 

A dreamy look passes over Archie’s face and he sighs wistfully at the mention of Veronica’s name. It makes Jughead’s eyes roll involuntarily and he quips back, “It’s about time Arch, I was getting tired of watching you let her walk all over you in her designer hiking boots.”

 

The other boy snaps his eyes back up to Jughead, and without missing a beat he starts, “Does that mean you’re going to do something about B-”

 

Jughead doesn’t let him finish though and retorts, “There’s nothing _to_ do Archie, so leave it.”

 

With a smirk, Archie swivels in his seat and hops off the side of the railing, motioning in the direction of the camp entrance. “Well then I guess you don’t care that I saw her at the arch when I came in. It even kind of looked like she was waiting for someone, but really, she could be looking for anyone. I think she might have waved at Jason when he walked through.”

 

It’s a low blow, but it gets the reaction he was looking for out of Jughead. With a loud groan aimed at the sky, Jughead stomps down the steps to follow his best friend, who’s already started walking, humming a tune Jughead’s never hear before with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

 

The crowd thickens as they near the main camp. People are saying their last goodbyes to parents at the arch, and Jughead strains his neck over the throng of heads in search of one person in particular. There are plenty of familiar faces around him, campers from previous years and other counselors he had gotten to know last summer, but the one face he’s looking for is nowhere to be seen.

 

He’s lost Archie in the crowd, where he’s presumably searching for Veronica. Weaving side to side through the sea of people and side stepping group hugs, Jughead struggles his way up to the arch, standing on his toes to scan for the one person he’d be lying to if he said he wasn’t excited to see them. He gives up quickly though, sighing and rocking back onto his heels while exhaling. He thinks she probably met up with whoever she was waiting for, and then realizes that it’s probably time for him to start gathering up his campers before dejectedly settling to greet her later in the day at lunch.

 

He moves to the tree that he’ll have his campers line up at, and pulls a list of their names from his pocket. All he has to do now is wait, and while doing so he hands out a couple of high-fives and hellos at campers and counselors that pass by to meet their own groups. When a line starts to form in front of him, he makes small talk with the kids and introduces himself to the new ones. They’re all calmer than he remembers, and even though the subdued behavior is most likely do to the early morning, it makes Jughead's heart beat steadier and his palms sweat less to know that he’ll be able to handle this group.

 

There’s still ten minutes until the groups need to start their rounds, and silence fell over his own crowd a few minutes before. He’s making a few notes on his roster as per parents request when one voice in particular cuts through the miscellaneous chatter.

 

“Jughead! Jughead Jones, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

 

His eyes widen in surprise and he turns to catch an armful of person for the second time this morning. This time though, the embrace doesn’t come from Archie, but someone smaller who fits perfectly under his chin and whose arms slide around his waist like they belong there.

 

He doesn’t have to see her to know who it is. Jughead would recognize the fruity scent of her shampoo, peaches and strawberries, anywhere. The force of her hug knocks his beanie to the ground, but Jughead doesn’t want to pick it up if it means losing the feels of her wrapped around him.

 

After a comfortable minute, she loosens her grip on him, but just barely, and his hands find her waist. All golden and glowing, she’s shining like the sun, but Jughead could look directly at her all day long and never hurt from her intensity.

 

He has to look down to meet her eyes, and she looks up at his through her lashes. He watches her release her bottom lip from between her teeth as if in slow motion, and the look morphs into a shy smile.

 

“Hey, Juggie. Are you excited for our last year?”

 

“A little bit more now than I was before, thanks to you Betts.”

 

Jughead wants to modify his earlier thought. If every day started out like _this_ \- a cup of coffee, some peace and quiet, _and_ an armful of Betty - he might, just might enjoy his last summer here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! Hopefully it's a good one for you guys, but beware, it is unbeta'd and I'm sorry if it feels choppy. Comments are appreciated! Also, I changed my username to match my new tumblr url @twilightvxen, but I was sm_fox on here before.

Betty is here with him again, and any tension Jughead was feeling earlier is drained away by her hands locked around his neck.

 

Seconds tick by like hours. He’s blocked out all other noises, and barely registers other people circling around them in a blur of colors. He catches himself staring and blinks rapidly to rid his mind of the image of Betty that’s been burned onto his retinas. Words are lost to him, and clearing his throat doesn’t do much to help find them.

 

Simultaneously, Betty and Jughead release their vice grips on each other and take small steps back for breathing room. A shy smile teases it’s way across her face, and she too clears her throat before saying, “So you decided to come back this year? I heard you were talking about quitting last summer.”

 

Jughead suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he awkwardly scratches at the blush burns up his neck and cheeks. “You heard me telling Archie about that? I didn’t really mean it, I was just having a bad day.”

 

“I never got the chance to ask you about it, but I thought about it all year.”

 

A mild look of horror crosses Jugheads face. Of course he would give Betty another thing to worry about on top of her already impressive list of stressors. “Betts I never meant to make you worry about what I said like that. I would never leave you alone in this nightmare, I’m in this thing for the long haul.” There’s double meaning to that statement when it comes to Betty. He think’s that both are true, and whichever way she chooses to take it, his reasons for coming back each year all lead to her.

 

Her expression softens, and she places a soft hand on his bicep, squeezing gently in reassurance. “Me too Jug, me too.”

 

Too soon for Jughead’s liking, their moment is interrupted when a small tornado of a girl knocks the wind out of Betty from the side. She doesn’t have much a choice other than to let herself be dragged away from him, but aims an apologetic smile and wave goodbye in his direction all the same.

 

People swarm between them, late to find their posts and rushing to make up for lost time. Jughead half raises his hand in his own goodbye, and Betty’s voice floats over the sea of heads. “Find me at lunch, okay?”

 

It’s sweet music to her ears even though it’s lost within seconds. A soft and choked, “Yeah, I’ll find you Betts,” still slips between his lips and it feels like a promise that Jughead never meant to make, but has all the intentions to keep.

  
  


The feeling of her touch lingers on his arm. The heat radiates and although Jughead is frozen in place, his whole body is on fire. Only Betty could reduce him to a mess like this. Jughead thinks he’s known for a while, but he’s never admitted it to himself until now that he’s showing all the signs of being irrevocably and exceptionally gone on the look, feel and sound of everything  _ Betty _ .

 

The rowdy noise of children, and the fact that this is not the time for potentially life changing revelations spur him into action. His palms are sweaty and he has to pretend like one short conversation with Betty  _ didn’t _ just make his heart go crazy. His brain may want to focus on something other than her, but his heart is pounding in his chest as if if telling him to go after it’s instigator.

 

So, logically there’s nothing he wants to do more than track her down and pull her to his side permanently, but it’s eight thirty and a hard clap on his shoulder pulls him out of his miniature spiral.

 

“Jug, I see you’ve found your girl already.” In a typical Reggie Mantle greeting, he appears without warning and without a need. 

 

A muttered “et tu, Reggie?” leaves Jugheads lips before he can help it, but Reggie happily ignores the comment in favor of teasing him even further.

 

“You know, Betty really looks like she’s loosened up this year. I don’t even think she’s wearing that god awful pink today.” Reggie looks up pensively, like he just said something that could warrant contemplation, then turns his head sharply to meet the look of disgust in Jughead’s eyes before continuing, “If you don’t go for her this year Jug, I might have to take a shot myself.”

 

“Fuck off, Reggie. You know she’s not anyone's  _ girl _ , and she definitely won’t go for you with that attitude.” 

 

“Woah, down boy, no need to get so offended. She’s all yours if you’re planning on making a move.” His hands are raised in mocking defense, and of course Reggie would manage to ruin a not-so-horrible day with just a few poorly chosen words 

 

“I’m not jealous, I’m just saying she doesn’t belong to anyone and you shouldn’t talk about the girls that way” If he weren’t in denial, Jughead would angrily add that he thinks Betty looks great in pink, and that it stands out against her golden skin the longer she stays out in the sun. 

 

“Man, I never said you were acting jealous, but keep telling yourself that you’re not and let me know how that goes.” 

 

With a wink and gleeful wave, he too abruptly disappears into the crowd, and for the second time in a matter of minutes, Jughead is left standing in confusion to contemplate _what the_ _hell just happened._

 

* * *

 

Luckily, he manages to get through the rest of the morning without any more hiccups in the Betty department. In typical Jughead fashion though, that luck runs out when he’s faced with an onslaught of 8 year olds.

 

Right and left there are kids trying to swing from branches, others crying about how they got hit with those branches on the upswing. A few have already managed to ruin the clothing the came in, tripping over rocks and ripping pants, or rolling around in the dirt while racing to see who can make it down the hill the fastest. 

 

Any thoughts Jughead had earlier about this summer not being a nightmare are quickly dispelled on the 5 minute walk to the boy’s cabins. The good behavior displayed upon arrival in the presence of their parents is immediately disregarded, and Jughead can only think that he’s been handed to the dogs in some horrible public exhibition on these campgrounds.

 

Jughead’s never been one for optimism, but he wants to make it through the next month and a half alive. So, he figures a little positive thinking won’t do him any harm. He just hopes that when they get to the cabin where Archie is waiting for them, the kids might disengage from their circus act for a few moments of peace so they can pick beds and set up their sleeping bags.

 

He’s gotten this far in life feeding off of pessimism, and he immediately regrets trying to change that.

 

The cabin is utter  _ chaos _ the second all the kids get their feet through the door. It’s something out of a horror movie, and Jughead wants to turn on his heels and run for the hills. If it weren’t for Archie being entirely unequipped to handle these kids, he would have zero second thoughts on the matter. 

 

Jughead wills himself to turn around and face the mess he’s bound to and recoils at the sight before him. Just the noise the kids were making was enough to make him shudder in fear, but the sight leaves him shocked.

 

He springs into action to separate the boys. “Marcus! Let go of the mattress pad, just because you’re holding it doesn’t mean you get that bed.”

 

“Daniel, I really need you to go change your clothes, and stop hitting your brother with that stick, you know we’re supposed to leave the nature alone and outside.”

 

“Peter how many years in a row am I going have to say get  _ off the ceiling? _ ”

 

“You boys in the corner, this isn’t time for a pillow fight, you need to put them down and - Archie? I swear to god, you’re not supposed to engage them when this happens!”

 

By the time he’s traveled around the room at least twice and solved everyone's problems, Jughead is ready to call it a day and sleep until nightfall. Thankfully though, Archie takes over with more maturity and a sheepish grin when it’s time to go to the archery station before lunch. 

 

Jughead lags behind the group when they get there, kicking rocks with the tip of his boot to make time go faster, and the next two hours go off without a hitch.

 

When it comes time to gather for lunch, they’ve stop back at the cabin and make their way to the mess hall, where dozens of kids are swarming to sit with their best friends. Jughead only has one thing on his mind right now, and surprisingly it’s not getting food. He only cares about finding Betty.

 

He accomplishes this pretty fast, but he supposes it helps that everyone else in the room is more than a foot shorter than them. Jughead is easily mesmerized by the swinging blonde ponytail across the room.

 

He’s determined to get to her, opening his mouth to call her name and raising his hand to wave, but as fate would have it, his luck runs thin again and a strong arm drags him away from his mission in the opposite direction of Betty. 

 

From his position in a headlock, he can’t tell who’s kidnapped him, but he can see that they’re headed to a table occupied by Archie and Reggie already.

 

“Not today lover boy, you can see your girlfriend later. For now you’re sitting with the guys.” Moose Mason’s satisfied voice comes from above Jughead. Knowing he’ll never escape now, Jughead is resigned to being carried away.

 

“Why do I have to sit with you?” Jughead whines uselessly into Moose’s armpit. “Kevin’s sitting with the girls, why can’t I?” He knows it sounds petulant, but he surprisingly gets more of a reaction than he was hoping for.

 

“Um wait - what’s Kevin got to do with this? He can sit wherever, I’m not going to make him do anything he doesn’t want to, so shut up Jug, you don’t need to keep bringing him up okay?” 

 

With a grunt Jughead is thrown down onto a bench across from Archie, and Moose takes a seat next to him, but avoids eye contact and doesn’t say anything more before angrily forking into his food. Jughead stares at the side of his face, a question forming on his lips, but decides better of it since Moose looks ready to kill. Instead he swings his legs under the table, pulls his beanie further down over his ears, and begins to dish up food.

 

All thoughts of Betty are momentarily forgotten when he takes his first bite. It’s  _ delectable _ , but his split second of bliss is rudely interrupted by conversation and he can’t seem to ever get a break.

 

“I was telling Jug earlier, those girls have gotten  _ hot  _ since we last saw them.” Reggie gets going again and it takes Jughead extreme patience not to roll his eyes when he takes another deep bite into his burger.

 

“Keep your hands off Ronnie, or I swear I’ll -” 

 

“You’ll do what Andrews? You wanna fight here in front of all these kids?” It’s meant to antagonize him, and even though Reggie and Archie have been friends since elementary school, there’s a competitive side to their friendship that neither have been able to let go of.

 

“I’m finally going to ask her out this year Reg, just leave her alone and go find someone else to pick on.”

 

“So I can’t have Betty, and now Ronnie’s off the table too? You guys are really going to make me resort to Cheryl?”

 

Of course not only Jughead perks up at the unsuspected mention of Betty, but so do Archie and Moose.

 

“Wait, what do you mean you can’t have Betty?”

 

“Damn, did someone get to Cooper already?”

 

Jughead’s irritation gets the better of him when he pipes up, “Well, technically you can’t  _ have _ any of them.”

 

“Damn, take a joke Jones. Maybe you two are perfect for each other, both uptight as hell.”

 

“Fuck off Reggie. Jug is right, you shouldn’t talk about Betty like that.” Jughead will have to thank Archie later for putting an end to this conversation, but settles for a smile over the table in the meantime.

 

“Whatever man. If you’re so sure that you and Ronnie will happen this year, then what’s your big plan to ask her out?”

  
  


“Well okay, so I was planning on waiting until the end, but now I’m planning on -” 

 

Previous confrontation forgotten, Archie quickly dissolves into Veronica centric ramblings. He hears snippets of the conversation when someone else chimes in, but focuses on something else entirely. 

 

Like usual when he zones out, Jughead’s thoughts almost immediately land on Betty and his eyes do as well. She’s sitting on the other side of the hall, Veronica and Cheryl occupying the spaces on either side of her. Cheryl is idly inspecting her nails, while Veronica makes dramatic gestures across the table where Kevin sits. Knowing her, she’s probably recounting some crazy story from the city. But he only cares about the blonde in the middle. Betty’s head is thrown back in a laugh at something her friend must have said, and the smooth expanse of her neck is in plain sight. 

 

He’s frozen, admiring her from afar and thinking about how she probably doesn’t even care that they didn’t get to meet, when Archie’s voice calls him out of his daze.

 

“Jug? So what do you think?” 

 

His eyes stay trained on the other side of the room when he replies, “About the plan? I don’t know Arch, I think you should just talk to her sooner rather than later. Veronica doesn’t seem like the type to wait and pine over anybody.”

 

“I think if people are meant to be, they’ll wait no matter how long it takes to find each other.”

 

Across the room, Betty’s head turns sharply, and she makes eye contact with Jughead who’s still in a blonde hair and green eyes induced trance. Her brows are furrowed at him in confusion, but Jughead doesn’t see much else as his face burns and he stares determinedly at his plate for the rest of lunch.

 

* * *

 

“Thought I’d never find you after all that chaos”

 

It’s late, and all the counselors should be preparing for the next day when a melodic voice comes from behind him. He’s sitting in one of the hammocks where he has a good view of the river in the distance, and the clear sky is streaked with pinks and oranges from the setting sun.

 

Turning around he says, “Hey you. I was afraid I wouldn’t get to see you, I don’t know if I could have survived being hostage to Archie and Reggie any longer than I was.”

 

“You know them, always trying to meddle. Can I join you?”

 

He pats the space next to him and scoots up higher on one end of the hammock, “Be my guest.”

 

The air is still when she walks towards him, hitching one leg up to get a footing on the hammock. Her strategy doesn’t work though, and it nearly sends them both flying backwards onto the ground. Jughead manages to catch her arm, and instead she spills onto his chest as her other leg gets caught on the edge of the fabric. He’s there to catch her when she falls, and his left arm immediately goes to her waist while the other attempts to prop himself up on the swinging hammock. The pressure from her cheek on his chest is relieved when she looks up with a breathless grin. She must have taken her hair down before coming over, because now it’s a mess, standing up in all directions after their struggle. Jughead unknowingly moves to tuck a wild strand behind her ear, and her heavy breathing stops upon contact. He doesn’t look away with her until he can’t handle the piercing green anymore, and his hand breaks away from where it cradles her head at the same time.

 

“Thanks Juggie. I knew you’d catch me.” 

 

It’s breathy and warm and Jughead cannot believe her right now. Everything she says holds a thousand different meanings, but he doesn’t know if it means the one thing he wants it to. Right now, she’s a dream that’s taken human form as an angel. Betty is ethereal, framed by the soft glow of the setting sun in front of him, he’s never seen anyone look so _ breathtaking. _

 

He can only nod in response, all the things he want’s to say get caught in his throat, and he swallows thickly to stop himself from losing control. Instead, a soft, “come here,” takes the place of forbidden thoughts, and he opens his arms to offer space for her to rest. 

 

Carefully this time, she maneuvers her way around the hammock, until she wordlessly decides on a comfortable spot between his legs. Her back is pressed up against his chest and Jughead hopes that his many layers can conceal the drum beat that is his heart. With her head tucked under his chin, Jughead gets that familiar whiff of strawberries that soothes the rushing sound in his head until his heartbeat returns to a subtle pulse. 

 

Betty merely mutters, “So I can see the sunset,” as explanation for her chosen position, and really, Jughead can’t argue with that.

 

“How was day one for you?”

 

“Good, but I definitely could have gone without that ice cream station. I burned off all the calories just by trying to  _ make  _ the stuff.”

 

“Was it the one with the balls? Working with those takes all the fun out of ice cream.”

 

“I can’t believe they brought them back after Archie broke his wrist using one last year.”

 

“How does that even happen? Sometimes I think he’s too far gone for any of us to save him.”

 

He feels her nod under his chin, and they fall into comfortable silence while the sun is at it’s lowest before it disappears behind the horizon. Jughead absentmindedly starts twirling her hair around his fingers, wanting to get lost in the silky feeling. It falls around her bare shoulder, and he doesn’t want her to get cold, so he shrugs off his jacket and places it over both of them.

 

Only after the sun drops and the sky is completely dark does Jughead realise that Betty’s fallen asleep against him. If it wasn’t dark out, he would gladly let her stay cuddled up against his chest if it meant he could revel in this moment for a few hours longer, but it’s night and they’re already out past camp curfew so they need to get back to the cabins.

 

With one hand on her shoulder, Jughead gives Betty a gentle shake until she shows signs of waking up. She sits upright in a sharp motion, looking around wildly to try and figure out where she is and his jacket slips off her to the ground. Jughead’s hand is there to calm her though and it moves to her arm and she turns around with a sigh, scared features melting into a groggy smile when she sees him.

 

“Hey Jug, sorry I must have been more tired than I realized. I didn’t mean to make you uncom-”

 

“It’s alright. I let you sleep didn’t I?”

 

Her eyelids are heavy and she tries to stifle a yawn, but it escapes and afterwards Jughead tracks the movement of her tongue when it darts out to wet her lips.  “What time is it and how long have I been sleeping?”

 

“11 o’clock, and only about an hour.”

 

“Oh no, we’re going to get in so much trouble if they do rounds tonight.” She frantically moves to jump down from the hammock, and Jughead can’t help himself and reaches down to slip his flattened hand down further into her closing fist as a signal for her to stop worrying. 

 

“C’mon Betts, I’ll take you back. Don’t worry about rounds, they’re always too tired on the first night to do anything extra.” 

 

He slides out of the hammock, and stands in front to help Betty off, but she’s sitting eye level with him when she realizes, “But your cabins are on the other side of camp, it’ll take you even longer to get there in the dark. You need your rest too you know.”

 

Her eyes are wide with worry, and there’s so much to see. When he has time, Jughead would like to explore each different look he’s seen in them, and maybe write about each one in his journal as a reference for later. Now though, he settles for grabbing both of her hands in his own and helping her slide the few feet down to the uneven ground.

 

“How about I stay in the counselor's cabin then, it’s only half the distance. Is that a good compromise?”

 

“Are you sure it’s not too much for you?” 

 

In the dark he can barely see her bottom lip being worried between her teeth and sighs, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be running on coffee tomorrow anyways. One extra cup in the morning won’t hurt.” He hates to tell her even the whitest of lies. He knows fully well that he doesn’t have anything to sleep with in the counselor’s cabin, and that the walk from hers to his own is almost 15 minutes extra. 

 

Still, if it means he gets to keep holding onto her hand and guide her through the forest while she sleepily bumps into his shoulder, then so be it.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to this weeks episode of which trope will Sara use this time! I hope you all like this chapter! My favorite part is the last half cause I'm a sucker for some good dialogue, but I suck AT dialogue, so I'm feeling pretty good that I got this done. Thank you for all the lovely comments, you guys inspire me to write so much more! Unbeta'd and I have to go out right after posting this so please ignore any small errors!

Jughead is soaked in water and his skin stings from the impact of at least 20 water balloons in the last half hour.

 

He wants to know what kind of summer camps willingly gives their kids weapons anyways? Some bullshit about releasing pent up energy is what they told him, like this won’t just intensify their already absurd behavior.

 

Jughead never thought anyone could drip _angrily,_ but he’s managed prove himself wrong. Fists balled at his sides, water dripping from that one strand of hair he’s alway playing with, and shivers running up his back from the water cooling on his skin, it’s taking more patience than he’ll admit to for him to not storm away in frustration.

 

He’d much rather be hauled up in his cabin right about now, maybe reading a nice book or writing in his journal. He’d rather be doing anything that doesn’t involve his clothes getting soaked through and pain from getting pelted with balloons.

 

It’s not even a nice day anyways. Sure, the sky may be clear but there is an unforeseen chill in air that Jughead was not prepared for. Days at camp were typically sweltering in the midst of the New York summer, and even Jughead resigned himself to forgoing his jackets and layers that usually acted as protection from the harsh world, weather and people alike. Today would be the kind of day he reveled in, cold and unwelcoming, but in a t shirt and swim trunks, Jughead unintentionally planted a target on his back for the water balloon wielding kids.

 

Kids who clearly think this whole thing is _hysterical,_ if their unbridled smirks and pointed fingers have anything to say about it. Each time Jughead chastises them for hitting him, the kids just further dissolve into giggles and only throw more.

 

But the real culprit behind all this is hidden behind a tree somewhere on Jughead’s right.

 

Muffled giggles alert him to Betty’s presence, yet every time he spins around to catch her in the act, she’s nowhere to be found. He’s stalking up to one of the trees when the familiar sting of a water balloon explodes across the back of his head. Whipping around for what must be the hundredth time with a balloon in hand, poised for attack, all he can see is a dozen snickering kids, no golden blonde counselor in sight.

 

He’s not alone on Betty’s growing list of targets, but Jughead highly doubts that Veronica is the greatest company to be in for his revenge plan.

 

“I just can’t see why this had to happen today of all days, these sneakers are not meant for the mud you know!”

 

“We’re at _camp,_ Veronica. You shouldn’t be wearing anything designer in the first place.”  The ‘duh’ is implied by his tone and eye roll, but he won’t say it outloud in fear of the darkening look in Veronica’s eyes.

 

“We’re on the same side right now Jughead Jones. I want to get our _dear Betty_ back as much as you do.”

 

If there was anymore more unsuited for Camp Sweetwater than himself, without a doubt Jughead thinks it would be Veronica. She doesn’t exactly do much to prove him wrong either. From where she’s trying to wipe dirt off the heel of her shoe, Veronica looks extremely bitter about the state of soaked clothes and wet hair, more so than Jughead feels.

 

“Look, Veronica. I couldn’t care less about your shoes right now. I just want to find Betty and get this thing over with, and I know you do too, so could you please help me out here?”

 

Veronica splutters a bit in response before settling for a dirty look and huff of breath aimed his way. “Might I remind you _again_ , we’re on the same team here.”

 

“Oh really? I wouldn’t have known if you didn’t tell me otherwise.”

 

“Hmm, because you’re too mesmerized by trying to get Betty back to pay attention to anything else?”

 

He’s about to tell her something he would most likely regret when he sees another water balloon come soaring through the sky from the corner of his eye. With a quick duck, Jughead manages to evade the balloon, but that does nothing to quell his increasing irritation.

 

In response to his resulting groan, Betty reveals her hiding spot from behind one of larger trees by stepping out with a smirk on her face, tossing a water balloon between hands menacingly. “Well, well ,well, ready to give up yet Juggie?”

 

So, maybe he has been repeatedly pelted with water today, but Jughead feels like someone’s just dumped a bucket of ice cold river water over his head when he sees Betty.

 

It’s becoming a pattern, he knows this for sure, that whenever he sees her, Jughead finds himself incapable of moving his feet, and his mouth stays frozen in the same manner. He only hopes no one else has caught onto his completely obvious display of awe whenever she walks by.

 

Objectively, he knows that it’s inappropriate to stare at Betty like he always does, but in a few moments (or many) of weakness, staring is all he knows how to do.

 

Somehow, she’s wearing significantly less clothing than when they started. All that covers her now is a white and blue striped swimsuit top, and the same pair of denim shorts she had originally been wearing. Her hair is down, as it seems to be more and more often when she catches him alone, but it’s slicked back with the same water that drips onto her chest and shoulders.

 

He’s able to focus on one particular drop of water teasing it’s way down the center of her chest and suddenly he doesn’t feel so cold anymore. His eyes follow its travel down touchable skin that still seems to exude warmth in this weather and he wants to _reach_ for her when his eye go as low as they can and the drop disappears from sight. More streams take the same path, slipping beneath the fabric of her top, and he wants to know exactly how far they would go if unobstructed by the offensive piecing of clothing in their way.

 

Only when she’s standing in front of him does Jughead resurfaces from his tunnel vision, seeing the full view of where exactly he was staring. If he’s being honest, this angle is a lot more enticing. Still, he quickly averts his eyes in a mixture of shame and embarrassment. Jughead doesn’t have to see himself to know that a deep shade of red is spreading down his own chest, mocking those water drops he was so curious about.

 

There are so many things in his life that he has struggled, but managed to control. This summer more than ever, Jughead has proved to himself that his reactions around Betty do not fall under that list.

 

Eventually he has to look somewhere else from the dirt ground, and Betty’s eyes are waiting for the sheepish look of apology Jughead radiates when he slowly glances upwards.

 

The smug look is still dominant in her eyes, almost akin to satisfaction, but something softer invades and spreads across her whole expression at the same time. Her eyebrows climb higher with each new shade of red his face turns, and the look morphs into one of expectation the longer he opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water.

 

He’s known her for four years, it’s not like they’re strangers (or like he’s a stranger to these soft looks and her touches), but of course he’s still as awkward around her as the first time they met and she was a bubbly 14 year old who Jughead was sure would never want to talk to a scrawny kid like him.

 

(Spoiler alert: Jughead had been the first person Betty chose to introduced herself to on that day. He was always her first choice.)

 

Unfortunately, his teeth are chattering again when he asks, “Are - aren’t you cold?”

 

She looks at Veronica for a moment, and Jughead glances between them trying to decipher the silent conversation they’re having. It doesn’t seem like the question Betty was expecting from him, and she cautions back, “No? I guess I’ve been running around, I hadn’t noticed the weather.”

 

“Huh, I guess I’m the only one feeling it.”

 

“We can be done if you want?” It’s a quick departure from her earlier attitude about the game, but Jughead doesn’t want to disappoint. He much prefers the bright smile she was wearing a few minutes ago compared to the small frown she has on now.

 

“Oh no, don’t worry about m-”

 

“Hey! You’ve been complaining the whole time,” pipes up a small voice, and Jughead doesn’t know which kid in the small crows it came from, but he aims a glare in the direction of the noise all the same.

 

Unsurprisingly, he’s back to his normal self.

 

“Like I was _saying_ , don’t worry about me. We can keep playing. Anyways,” a teasing tone that imitates the one Betty was using earlier creeps into his voice, “we can’t quit now even if I wanted to.”

 

She seems to catch onto his changing mood, but the hesitation is still audible when she questions, “Oh yeah, why’s that Juggie?”

 

“Because I’m about to win.”

 

Betty hasn’t noticed the arm that’s been hidden behind his back during this entire exchange, but when he brings it up and launches forward, she definitely feels the sting of a water balloon popping against her shoulder.

 

He doesn’t wait to see her expression change before he’s off and running, only hears her shriek in surprise. When he’s far enough away, Jughead turns around and grins playfully, “Unless _you_ wanted to stop that is.”

 

“Oh, it is game _on_ Jughead Jones!”

 

* * *

 

So, the cold he was feeling earlier might have come from the bad weather, but _this_ cold is from something else entirely.

 

The rest of the day went like they usually do, although if you were to ask anyone else, Jughead took to the rest of their planned activities in a suspiciously better mood than usual.

 

Jughead parted ways with Betty and Veronica, his kids in tow, and took them off to meet Archie and go rock climbing on the north side of camp until dinner. The cabin’s take turn helping in the kitchen before each meal, and it was Jughead and Archie’s day to bring their kids in for dinner help. Really it was just another excuse to drop the kids off for the adults to take care of, but the kitchen was one of his favorite places (and he could usually bribe the kids into grabbing some leftovers for him when they cleaned up after the meal).

 

He felt perfectly fine the entire meal, even if he did get dragged to sit with Archie, Reggie and Moose again. They were only mildly apprehensive about his sudden chipper attitude, but they weren’t going to question the change if it meant they got to sit through one meal without him being a complete grump.

 

It was the first Saturday of camp, and weekends always meant extended curfews and bonfires for the counselors, so they spent the rest of the evening with their campers in the cabins until sundown came and adults volunteered to take over watch for the bonfire.

 

Jughead and Archie had met up with Reggie and Moose halfway through the walk to the epicenter of the campgrounds where a large fire pit sat, surrounded by logs as makeshift benches. Upon arrival, Archie immediately veered off in search of Veronica, and Reggie and Moose left Jughead in favor of trying to talk up some of the other willing female counselors.

 

Toeing back and forth, Jughead had looked around awkwardly for a few minutes in search of his own company, before setting eyes on Kevin and settling to sit with him until Betty arrived. He didn’t have to wait long though, before the soft pressure of small hands found his shoulders, and warm breaths against his ear whispered, “Guess who?”

 

Betty didn’t wait for his response before she swung her arm around his shoulders and slid into the middle spot between him and Kevin, effectively removing all the space between the three of them, pressed together from shoulder to knees on the log.

 

When Kevin left them alone with raised eyebrows and an obvious look, Betty never moved an inch.

 

Even in front of the roaring fire, Jughead still felt the night breeze despite being equipped with his jacket as well. Betty, however, was in the same t-shirt and shorts that she had been wearing when he last saw her at dinner, and from being pressed against her like that, Jughead had felt the goosebumps rise on her skin with every particularly strong breeze.

 

If not for the way the scent of her freshly washed hair would soak into the collar of his jacket, then Jughead wordlessly shrugged himself out of the fleece-lined denim and carefully wrapped it around her shoulders because he couldn’t bear to feel her shiver against him. She had looked up from her spot tucked into his side and nodded her thanks before looking straight ahead again, cascading hair doing nothing to hide the smile instigated by, but not intended for him.

 

So for the second time that day, Jughead was exposed to the elements and it didn’t cross his mind twice to worry about himself when he was taking care of Betty.

 

That of course, proved to be his ultimate downfall the next day.

 

He’s been in another one of his ‘moods’ all morning, coupled with the sneezes and coughs currently wracking his body, and it’s left him irritable and frustrated. He wants to shut himself up alone in a cabin and only leave for food until his fever breaks and he can actually function like a useful human being again.

 

So that is exactly what he does.

 

Locked away in the counselor’s cabin, wrapped up in layers of clothes and blankets, Jughead doesn’t feel the slightest bit guilty for leaving Archie alone with the group. The only reason Jughead even had this fever in the first place was because Archie couldn’t tag along to go to archery, so he was forced to join Betty and Veronica in their water balloon fight.

 

(He’ll complain now that the weather’s caught up to him, but after the fact Jughead couldn’t keep the smile off his face so he doesn’t _really_ have any bad feelings towards Archie.)

 

But for now, he’ll wallow in his petulance for as long as he likes, at least until he isn’t sick anymore. He doesn’t like this, the mental and physical weakness it makes him feel. Of course he would usually give any excuse to skip a day of wrestling campers too and from stations, but he would rather be healthy and working than sick and replaceable.

 

He was shunned to the cabin by Clifford Blossom before lunchtime with some excuse about ‘not contaminating the children’ that made it sound like the had the scarlet fever instead of a regular one a few degrees above average body temperature. He didn’t have the strength to argue or to eat anything before retiring to bed, and he walked the way there with his head held down and his arms wrapped around his body to keep the cold feeling at bay.

 

Now it has to be around dinner time and Jughead slept for the majority of the day between then and now. He’s reading a favorite book he brought along when a soft knock on the door interrupts him three chapters in.

 

He’s not expecting anyone, since they had all been warned by the camp nurse to avoid his cabin until he was no longer sick, but he calls out, “Who’s there?” in a raspy voice nonetheless.

 

“”It’s me.” Betty’s voice floats softly through the door and across the cabin. “Is it safe to enter?”

 

Jughead frantically looks around him at the mess of snot covered tissues and cough drop wrappers that litter the floor and belatedly thinks he should have cleaned up. “Maybe?” he calls back warily, but he hears her laugh and the door clicks open.

 

Peeking her head into the room, Betty teases, “Should I come back another time when you and this room are in better shape?”

 

“Please no. I don’t know how long I can last in this solitary confinement. I’m too weak for the prison life.”

 

“I beg to differ there, Juggie.”

 

Later, he’ll blame his flaming cheeks on the fever if it comes down to that. “Have you seen me? I’m barely going to make it out of a measly fever alive.”

 

“You’re starting to sound like Veronica when she gets sick.” She’s stepped fully in the room, and shuts the door behind her with a soft click. Her arrival gets infinitely better when he sees the tray of food in her hands.

 

“The horror,” he gasps in mock disgust, but grin takes over and he makes grabbing motions for the tray while Betty laughs at him.

 

“Be patient Jug, I want to take your temperature _before_ you eat anything warm.” She sets the tray onto the bed stand and sits down on the bed by his feet. Only then does Jughead notice the plastic bag wrapped around the crook of her elbow.

 

“Fine, but only since you’re apparently my only true friend here,” comes out as a whine, but he curiously adds, “How’d you know I was sick anyways?”

 

It’s her turn to blush. “I looked for you at lunch, but Jelly told me you were in here ‘coughing your lungs out, hopefully’. This was the only time I had to get away and check on you.”

 

“She’s lucky I’m not physically capable to get out of bed, otherwise I would have some choice words for her.” In a softer voice he adds, “Thank you though, for giving up your free time and bringing me food.”

 

“That’s not all I brought. It didn’t take much effort to coerce Blossom into giving me half the supplies to take care of you myself.” She says into the bag while pulling out a myriad of things Jughead couldn’t name if he tried. “Aspirin for the headache tomorrow morning, Nyquil so you can actually get some sleep tonight, a thermometer, towels for a cold compress if you need it. There’s a bunch of other stuff but I’ll see how you’re doing first.”

 

“Hey there Betts, nurse off duty? Who needs a hospital - ” he stops to cough violently into his arm, “ - when I’ve got you here.”

 

She stops her unpacking and smiles fondly at him. Against the yellow light from the cabin lamp behind her, Betty is glowing softly. “Here, don’t talk too much. It’ll only hurt worse if you do.” She tries to hand him the thermometer, but instead Jughead shrugs his shoulders as if they are led and opens his mouth instead, waiting for her to place the thermometer under his tongue. Betty rolls her eyes but it’s all fondness and she complies anyways. “You’re going to make me do _all_ of the work?”

 

“Hey, you offered.”

 

They sit in silence until the thermometer beeps, and Betty leans forward again to pull it out of his mouth and read. “101. It’s not terrible, but you still need all the fluids and rest you can get.”

 

“But I’ll make a full recovery, right Nurse Cooper?”

 

“If you rest for a few days, yes.” She places her free hand over the blanket on his calf.

 

“Does that mean no kids?”

 

“Don’t sound so eager Juggie, I’ll have to ask Blossom first and you know how strict he is.”

 

He drops the act and complains, “I don’t know which I hate more, being sick, or being forced to watch over those little trolls.”

 

“I know, but I’ll keep you company tonight. Veronica said she could take charge for a few hours.” She stands up to grab the tray from beside him, and uncovers the bowl. “Here’s some soup, it should be easier to stomach than a full meal right now.”

 

“I don’t want you to get sick too.” Jughead takes the bowl from her and rest it on his lap, taking spoonfuls of broth into his mouth. Around a mouthful of noodles her asks incredulously, “They served soup for dinner?”

 

“Well, not exactly.” Betty continues with a sheepish grin, “It was our turn to help with dinner today, so I whipped something together really quickly while the kids were working and kept it warm on the stove. It’s nothing, really. And don’t worry about me, I’ll leave when you fall asleep.”

 

Jughead sets the bowl aside, careful not to spill the contents on his bed. “It’s definitely something, Betty.” He reaches for her hand and squeezes. “Thank you.”

 

She averts her eyes and reaches for the bowl again. “Eat now, thank me later once you’re cured.”

 

They sit in comfortable silence while Jughead finishes eating. He pokes fun at her when she scoots further onto the bed, back against the wall, and jostles him enough that a small splash of broth jumps out of the bowl and onto his blankets, but she jokingly waves him off. Afterwards, Betty updates him on what accidents Archie got into without him there to help, and Jughead nibbles on saltines while he sits, enraptured by the enthusiastic movements and loud laughs that Betty releases mid-story.

 

Jughead already feels better, warmer even, but Betty’s legs are resting over his and he doesn’t want to tell her in fear that she’ll move away.

 

Full of Betty’s delicious chicken soup and surrounded by her voice, Jughead feels warm and satisfied in a way he never thought was possible at camp. He doesn’t remember how long they talked after dinner, or how much nyquil and water she forced him to sip down. He doesn’t remember falling asleep to the soft tones of Betty’s voice as she tells another story, although he’ll vaguely recall the tale when he wakes up.

 

There are two things he is certain of though. One is that in the morning, two advil and another glass of water are waiting on his bed stand. The second is that Betty is fast asleep - barely-there snores filling the room - still propped up against the cabin wall, and her feet are curled up with his own beneath the sheets.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the kudos and amazing feedback! All of your comments are beautiful and I love reading what you have to say so please keep leaving me your thoughts. I'm sorry for the late update, I promise I'm not losing steam on this story, I have plenty more to write but had absolutely no time this week. Thank you again! I'm on tumblr @twilightvxen

“Sad to see you’re still alive.”

 

“Huh, am I really? Still feels like hell to me.” Jughead deadpans, feigning innocence and holding his hand out to test the weather.

 

Jellybean sighs into their air above her, “And I thought sickness would change him. How could I be so foolish?” She straightens up rather quickly though, and makes piercing eye contact when she says, “Seriously though, I see Betty nursed you back to health in no time at all.”

 

“It’s only been two days, there was no ‘nursing’ for her to do.”

 

“Tell that to your blush, brother. Oh, or are you burning up again? Maybe I should call Betty to check your temperature one last time.”

 

“Wow, I came all the way over to this side of camp just to see you after _I_ was sick and this is how you treat me?”

 

“Poor Juggie, you really don’t look so good.” A mischievous look appears on Jellybean’s face, and Jughead watches as his sister takes a deep breath before cupping her hands around her mouth. “BET-”

 

In an instant, Jughead is on the porch of Jellybean’s cabin, wrestling her hands down with one arm and slapping the other over her mouth to cut off the scream. “It’s six in the morning,” he hisses at her, “you’ll wake up the entire camp and then _I’ll_ be the one to get in trouble!”

 

She mumbles incoherently under his hand, and Jughead is satisfied at how little noise she makes. That is until he feels the telltale wetness and warmth of her tongue slide over his palm in retaliation.

 

Jellybean’s resounding cackle rings in his ears the entire walk back to his cabin.

 

* * *

 

“Kevin? What are you doing here? It’s three a.m.”

 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

 

“But it’s three a.m.” Jughead slowly repeats the obvious, watching Kevin stroll in through the half opened kitchen doors, feeling like a deer caught headlights at the arrival of someone new.

 

“And? Does that make the kitchen’s off limits to everyone but you?”

 

“No, I just -” It might be the lack of sleep speaking, but Jughead can’t process the reason why Kevin is looking at him like _he_ was the one who got interrupted, not the other way around. “It’s just really early, is all. I didn’t think anyone else was up at three a.m.”

 

“Should I get you a watch to confirm that, or is that clock on the wall over there suffice?”

 

Kevin talks and walks into the room without a backwards glance at him, and Jughead’s brain is slow on the uptake. With a quick shake to clear his head, Jughead stammers, “N-no, no I’m fine. But why are you here?”

 

“What? Is three a.m reserved for some elite brooding club that only you’re a part of?” He pauses in reluctance to go on, but eventually huffs, “If you must know, I’m recovering from a late night river rendezvous.”

 

“Were you alone?”

 

Kevin stares at him in disbelief. “No, I hung out with some squirrels, a few birds, a pair of rabbits, a raccoon -” He’s tallying on his fingers when a devious smile interrupts him, “- one particularly large Moose.”

 

“Did you sing to them too?”

 

Kevin winks obnoxiously and then they dissolve into silence while he busies himself buttering a piece of toast.

 

Jughead rotates in his seat to watch when Kevin starts to struggle with the coffee maker. “You have to hit the little green button twice, otherwise it won’t start.” The only sound for the next few minutes is a quiet gurgling from the machine, and mingled with the still silence of night, it’s almost serene.

 

His trance is broken when Kevin turns to him suspiciously and asks, “Why are you out here so early anyways? Did you come from the counselor’s cabin? I saw the light on through the window on my walk over.”

 

“No, I think Betty was staying in there tonight. She said her and Ron got into some sort of an argument.”

 

Kevin considers him for a moment, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Do you know what it was about?”

 

“I didn’t think it was any of my business.”

 

The timer on the coffee maker spurs Kevin into action, facing away from Jughead to pour himself a large cup. When he turns around again, Jughead must have imagined the earlier look on his face, because in it’s place sits a hungry smirk. Leaning against the counter with his legs crossed, Kevin brings the mug to his lips and gulps, never once breaking eye contact with Jughead over the rim.

 

He’s suddenly aware that Kevin knows something he doesn’t about the aforementioned argument. His skepticism is proven worthy when Kevin blankly says, “You should ask her about that,” and pushes himself off the counter with his hips. He breezes past Jughead towards the door he entered only a few minutes prior, and throws over his shoulder some last parting advice. “She likes hot chocolate. If you want her to open up, that is. One jumbo marshmallow, five mini’s.”

 

He’s gone before Jughead has time to reply, “I know,” and the words are lost in empty air.

 

Across the mess hall, the kitchen door creaks open, letting the cold air in again, and Jughead feels just as useless.

 

* * *

 

“Not again.”

 

“Trust me, beanie bitch, I’d prefer to not see your face first thing in the morning either.”

 

Jughead instinctively reaches for the hat and tugs, which brings a smug look to his company’s face. “That’s the best insult you’ve got? I’m honored, Cheryl.”

 

“Although I’m perfect on the outside, I’m nothing if not modest and I’ll be the first to admit that my comebacks are not up to par this early in the morning.” She flawlessly applies a smooth swipe of lipstick while falling into place besides him on the trail leading to the river. Jughead belatedly notices there is no mirror in sight.

 

“You’re admitting to a flaw? Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

 

“More than you can say for yourself,” she says matter-of-factly.

 

Their steps are in sync as they approach the river bed. Jughead tilts his head and asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Only that you’ve been making the same mistake for the past four years.”

 

Conversations with Cheryl usually take this turn. They bicker for a few moments, and then Cheryl drops something on him that takes time Jughead doesn’t have to consider and recover from. He remembers the summers when he wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise through all of Cheryl’s rants and insults, and Jughead much rather prefers this deeper, mellow version of her that has come to pass in recent years.

 

“You mean coming here every year?” He scoffs but it’s a defense mechanism to brace himself for what she’s about to say next.

 

It doesn’t come though, and Cheryl just takes a seat on the rocks that line the river’s edge, dipping her painted toes into the cold water.

 

“Like I would give you the answer that easily? I’m not about to let my wisdom go to waste on someone who won’t take it seriously.”

 

Jughead gingerly sits on a rock next to Cheryl, and squints at the sun rising over the other side of the river. They sit in silence for a minute before he speaks again. “I know what you’re talking about. Who, I mean.”

 

She turns to consider him, and in a much less steely tone says, “You should think about what you’re doing to each other. What’s going to happen next year?”

 

“I don’t know, I’ll keep putting it off until summer’s over. None of us will see each other again after this summer anyways.”

 

“You’d be surprised by the effort some people will make if they care about you.” Her head is held high as she turns to look back over the river. They must be the only ones awake right now, and the quiet of the campgrounds is a luxury only provided this early in the morning.

 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know much about that now would I.”

 

This is usually where Jughead cuts off, ends the conversation before it can go into uncharted territories that he doesn’t want to explore, but Cheryl is one step ahead of him. “Just think about it. That’s why I come down to the river some days, to think before anyone else can force their thoughts on me.”

 

She stand up and brushes her shirt out. With one pivot on her heel, Jughead can see the perpetual icy exterior return back to her face.

 

Her voice is still soft though, when she says, “You’ve always said it yourself. We’re not our parents.”

 

* * *

 

Thinking is something Jughead does a lot.

 

Second to writing, thinking is a habit for him, and he’d even be willing to go as far as calling it an addiction (and he doesn’t use that word lightly). He’s particularly prone to  _over_ thinking, which in most cases turns into a sort of downward spiral, and he would prefer not to make that trip often if the choice were up to him.

 

Writing and thinking go hand in hand, luckily for him. As soon as his brain starts rolling, it’s only a matter of minutes before his hands find paper and his fingers find pen. Pen meets paper, and before he knows it, words are flowing.

 

He writes like he thinks. It’s fast and messy, his pen never parting from the pages of his journal. If he break the string of words, it won’t flow together like the stream of consciousness running through his head. At home, he thinks about leaving. At camp, he thinks about long summer light softly fading into short and sweet summer nights. He thinks about the golden glow of the setting sun, and the vibrant green of grass that both look _so_ familiar. In general, he thinks a lot about the things he yearns for, and his writing translates into that as well.

 

On the odd occasion, he writes mindlessly. Those words, however, never turn into the meaningful verses he can write on fully cognizant ramblings.

 

The thing is, writing and thus thinking are so ingrained in his daily routine that when he’s too busy to even reach for his journal, Jughead can feel his fists clench tighter and his head pound harder. In his sleep, dreams are even more realistic, calling to be memorized on paper, but he doesn’t have the time to even consider writing.

 

He thinks about a lot of things, but there is one thing he _knows_ for sure.

 

He knows that when he gets irritable (at least more so than he already is), and starts taking advice from people like Kevin and Cheryl, he needs the escape that writing provides him. Unluckily for him, days like these aren’t forgiving when it comes to free time. There isn’t much he can do but sit and wait for an opportunity to present itself, and wait impatiently he does.

 

Each day crawls, and the rising heat only makes them feel longer, but the week itself passes in the blink of an eye. Normally he would beg for camp to speed by like it is, but still he’s hard pressed to say that it’s any more enjoyable when time does fly by.

 

So, he’s made it his mission to seek out as much free time as possible, and maybe that does mean exploiting Archie’s willingness to make up for all the times he’s left Jughead alone with the kids, but so what? He’s just making up for lost time.

 

Today is finally one of the rare days when he gets that time. Usually, he takes the morning when no one else is up to sit by the river or grab a cup of coffee and head to some secluded area on camp that no one else knows about (for someone who hates this place so much, he’s explored the grounds more than anyone would think). But the past week he’s had more to think about than ever, yet that sacred time of his was occupied by other people and the thoughts they planted into his head.

 

Now though, it’s two in the afternoon and he’s curled up on the porch bench in plain sight of any kids and directors who could drag him away, but nothing is going to stop him from writing. The further he flips through his journal to find a free page, the more stress Jughead can feel leave his body. It’s cathartic, writing, and the view in front of him isn’t the worst thing in the world either.

 

It’s scorching out, one of the hottest days of the summer, but Jughead is protected by the cool cover of trees and the cabin awning. His feet are tucked to the side, and he’s balancing a cup of coffee precariously on one knee, and his journal on the other thigh. It’s a good thing his hands have stopped shaking from exhaustion, but he doesn’t think anything could be worse than the three days he went seemingly without a second to himself.

 

In a clear patch of dirt far ahead of him, he can see the raven colored hair that can only belong to Veronica, and the bright blonde hair that is very clearly Betty’s bobbing up and down in some sort of game. They’re surrounded by children, and he can only make out the occasional giggle among them, but he has no desire to go closer and be roped into whatever they’re doing.

 

He’s making idle observations when Reggie and Moose pass by, bribing him to come down and join, but Jughead just rolls his eyes and turns back to the book where he’s only written a few sentences.

 

His eyes focus closer, and he sees a the vibrant feathers of a blue bird hop around in a grassy patch riddled with dandelions. He get’s lost in the show, but when he resurfaces, Jughead is thinking again.

 

_The young bluebird mimics the sky it takes flight to. That’s how they learn, you see? Clear and warm is the sky, nothing is hidden behind clouds that are missing from above. But it too, the bluebird that is, has secrets hidden behind feathers just as the sky has storied written in the stars masked by the cover of light. It does more than rest, enveloped in a nest of golden straw, on display for passersby to see. No, the bluebird has more potential for this. As it grows, the learned bird cares for the young, her own and others. More than worms satisfy those in her care. Love and protection are essential to them as well, and the bluebird gives these with ease and no restraint. Without the…._

 

“Hey Juggie, how’s the writing going?”

 

She startles him back into focus, and Jughead realizes he hasn't been watching the bluebird after all.

 

* * *

 

“Fancy seeing you here.”

 

“It’s _my_ cabin, Veronica.”

 

“No need for the attitude Jughead, I’m just here to talk.”

 

“Why don’t I believe that then? Whenever people want to talk it’s never _just_ a talk.” His arms are crossed over his chest in defense, and he’s being belligerent, but he knows Veronica, and the nonchalance in her tone suggests something more.

 

“Oh, Jughead. After four years you would think we could trust each other,” She sighs wistfully, but her tone turns hard in an instant, “apparently not though. I guess we disagree on one crucial thing.”

 

It’s almost 11 at night and he’s too tired to fire back, so Jughead humors her with a sigh and forced smile. “And what would that be?”

 

“Well,” She walks through the open door without invitation, and looks around in mild disgust before gingerly sitting on the cleanest bed, Jughead’s. “I for one think we disagree about how a certain someone feels about you.”

 

She has a smirk on her face, and Jughead closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath aimed at the ceiling before responding. “Why does everyone assume I have feelings for Betty?”

 

“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe because I never mentioned who I was talking about? Or maybe because you’re the most obvious, yet surprisingly still oblivious person I’ve met in my entire life? And let me tell you, I’ve met a _lot_ of people.”

 

“Why am I not surprised?”

 

“Stick to the topic, Caulfield. How can you possibly be in love with Betty and in deep denial of any bit of romance between you two at the same time?”

 

“Could you talk any louder? Might as well wake up the kids and announce it to the whole camp.”

 

Veronica perks up, but in a much quieter whisper teases, “So you’re _not_ denying it?”

 

“What? No, that’s not what I said. I’m not in _love_ with her. Even if I was, it’s not like anything is going to happen.” Jughead grows sullen again, and the change in attitude contradicts everything he says next. “Besides, after this summer we’ll go home and never see each other again. We’ll forget the other one even existed and be perfectly happy.”

 

“Will you? This isn’t Romeo and Juliet, in fact, it’s the opposite. Nothing is keeping you from being together but yourself.”

 

“Maybe that’s true, but then there’s the whole ordeal of Betty not showing any interest at all.” Rolling his eyes, Jughead presses, “And what am I supposed to do about that?”

 

Veronica looks incredulous, “Do I need to spell everything out for you? Look, it certainly wasn’t Archie, Reggie, or Chuck we were arguing about earlier.”

 

“What were you arguing about?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She stands from his camp bed carefully so as to not make noise and wake up any kids. In the softest way that Veronica can threaten him, she says, “I love Betty, and I want the best for her, otherwise I wouldn’t be here having a useless discussion with you, but tears are hard to get out of silk pajamas, and I _don’t_ want to have to do it again.”

 

She walks back towards the door without leaving him time to respond, but throws one last comment over her shoulder before opening it and walking out into the night.

 

“Maybe if you spent a little more time thinking, you would see what I do.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little bit of a longer chapter for you! Shits about to get real though next chapter when we see things from Betty's point of view. Another massive thank you for all of the amazing people who comment, I love hearing from you! Find me on tumblr @twilightvxen

Well, maybe Jughead is a  _little_ curious.

 

He supposes that it’s in his nature, the nagging need to know  _why_ in the back of his head. It’s not a quality he’s particularly proud of, since his curiosity tended to get him in trouble more often than not. He was always asking small questions as a kid, it made the bigger ones left unanswered seem less daunting than they truly were.

 

And it’s not like he takes advice from Veronica or Cheryl often, but then again, their advice usually consists of them scolding him for his behavior in front of the kids. He’s never gotten much sincere input from them before now.

 

So now Jughead is conflicted. On one hand, he could respect Betty’s privacy like he originally planned, since her argument with Veronica was none of his business anyways. Or so he thought originally. His other option is to figure out how to approach Betty with the question without upsetting her even more. If she was crying like Veronica implied, then he didn’t want to be a cause for her to cry again. If Betty  _was_ crying though, then Jughead would feel horrible if he left her alone when obviously no one else was going to comfort her. But he knows Betty’s faced a lot more than a simple argument with her best friend, and they obviously ended on okay terms since he had seen them getting along perfectly fine the day before, so he could just leave her alone unless she brought it up to him. Yet again, if they were talking about him, it’s unlikely Betty would even talk to him about it anyways.

 

Jughead will defeatedly admit he’s a little more than conflicted.

 

Which is why he spent the rest of the night running all possible versions of his conversation with Betty through his head beforehand to determine which route would be the safest to take.

 

Not surprisingly, none of the scenarios play out the way he would like them too. Either he’s left spiraling in his own head with dozens of unanswered questions, or he get’s his answers and their unsatisfying and leave him wanting more. Then there’s the off chance that Betty will get mad at him for being nosy, and he’s only seen Betty mad once, but it’s a chance he’s not willing to take in fear for himself and everyone else in their proximity.

 

(It was two summers ago, and she was legitimately mad at Chuck for insulting her sister, who had been caught down at the river after hours with Jason Blossom. At the time, Jughead had mostly felt scared of how she ripped Chuck apart, but after the  _literal_ dust settled, the feeling was mixed with something that felt suspiciously like pride.)

 

The feeling -the need to know- eats at him all day, and  _damn_ Veronica for giving him a small taste of what he was really hungry for. Unfortunately, this was the one appetite that Jughead can't easily satisfy, since Betty spends the rest of the day going out of her way to avoid him.

 

They had established a routine by now. Betty and Veronica would walk by their cabin in the morning with their group on the way to breakfast, and Jughead and Archie always joined them on the trip there. At lunch, Jughead made it a priority to get there early so he could sit in the back with Betty before he got dragged away by Reggie or Moose like on that first day. If either of them were up to it by nightfall, they would go on a walk or join all the other counselors down by the river after the children went to sleep. On weekends, they would sit next to each other at the bonfires.

 

But it looks like Betty has chosen to abandon all pre arranged plans in favor of doing everything in her power not to talk to him this day.

 

In the morning, Jughead waits patiently on his cabin porch, kids becoming increasingly rowdy with hunger behind him, and only 10 minutes after their usual meeting time does Jughead register that no girls are coming to meet them that morning. At lunch, Jughead brings his kids to the mess hall even earlier in hopes of finding a seat with Betty, but that plan fails miserably when she comes in five minutes later and abnormally takes a seat on the other side of the room with Midge and Nancy.

 

He spends all the time in between obsessing over everything he could have done to overstep his boundaries and make Betty evade him all day. He hasn’t even talked to her yesterday afternoon, and she had seemed perfectly fine then, so what could he have done? (Or maybe she was avoiding Archie? Jughead earnestly wishes he could do the same sometimes.)

 

Jughead recognizes that another perfectly reasonable explanation for her behavior is that nothing weird is going on after all, and Betty happened to coincidentally change plans twice in one day, but even that seems unlikely. So Jughead is resigned to the fact that asking Betty what her argument with Veronica was about is not going to be as simple of a task as he was hoping.

 

Like he hasn’t been overthinking things enough to begin with.

 

He's been passively attempting to strike up a conversation with her all day when he decides to take matters into his own hands and actively seek her out. Luckily, Archie accepts his mumbled excuse about needing to use the bathroom around 2 o’clock in the afternoon, and doesn’t question why he can’t use the one in the cabin about ten feet away from where the boys are chasing each other around in the dirt.

 

He knows her schedule, and later he’ll think that he really should have considered the meaning of that more, but for now it just means he needs to get to rock climbing in the next 30 minutes of he won’t see her until sundown almost eight hours later. If her group is still there, Jughead should be able to steal Betty away for a few minutes before they need to leave, and  _in theory_ that should be enough time to get a quick confession in and satiate Jughead’s curiosity.

 

In retrospect, it’s a horrible idea with even worse timing, but he didn’t exactly look too far ahead when crafting this plan.

 

He all but sprints across the campgrounds, and breathes a sigh of relief when he spots the circle of young girls standing around the artificial rock wall that’s been set up for camp use. He walks the rest of the way, attempting to slow his heart and breathing, and pulls his beanie off so it doesn’t become damp with the sweat starting to pool on his forehead from the run. At least, he tells himself it’s from the run.

 

He can’t place this feeling as he closes the distance between himself and the group, but it’s somewhere on the spectrum of stomach sinking to heart pounding. Really, there isn’t much for him to be nervous about, it’s just Betty, and she’s opened up to him about her struggles on more than a few occasions over the years.

 

He’s talked himself into coming this far, so with a deep breath he walks around the group of girls bouncing on their toes in excitement and his eyes find Betty in an instant. Of course she would be strapped into a harness and already halfway up the wall when he needs her most.

 

Apparently Jughead’s luck is on a roll today, because he clears his throat loudly to announce his presence and everyone whips around to look at the intruder, including Betty, who then promptly falls off the wall.

 

The pulley holding her up in the harness is reeling, the instructor letting go of the strap in surprise at the interruption. Betty’s entire torso turns to face the crowd, and her eyes find Jughead’s only a moment before the force of her turn causes both hands to lose grip on the protruding rock and she just...falls.

 

It doesn’t happen in slow motion or anything, but it does take a few seconds for the screaming to start, once it does though, it  _erupts_. Jughead can’t see or hear anything over the girls crying that “Miss Betty’s dead!” or general shrieking, but that doesn’t stop him from getting to her eventually.

 

He pushes through the crowd, cursing himself for managing to fuck up more than he’s already unknowingly done. The instructor is on his knees, blocking Betty’s face from his view, and Veronica is squatting on the ground with an extremely pained and worried look on her face. He (a bit rudely) pushes the instructor to the side, and takes his spot on his knees by Betty’s side.

 

Her eyes are shut tightly, and her jaw twitches in company with the clenched teeth Jughead knows are hiding behind closed lips. His eyes travel downwards and first clenched at her sides, but the rest of her body is spread flat on the floor, nothing looks bent or broken into odd shapes.

 

Immediately, his hands find her face, and then her shoulders, and arms and waist and basically any surface he can touch to make sure she’s alright. His heart is beating faster than any point before this moment, and now it’s  _his_ hands that can’t find purchase anywhere, because they’re flitting across her body at a rate comparable to the speed of her fall.

 

His eyes travel down her legs, and upwards when he follows the hand examining Betty’s right ankle. Veronica is running fingers lightly over the exposed skin and without missing a beat she simultaneously gives Jughead the most unimpressed look he’s ever seen, and if he weren't more preoccupied with Betty lying on the dirt ground, he would find the time to be extremely offended by it.

 

His eyes linger on the bare skin of Betty’s legs when the annoyed sound of her voice comes from his right. “You can let go of me Jug, nothing feels broken, just a few bruises maybe, more so on my ego than anywhere else.”

 

“Betty, Betts, you have to know - I didn’t mean for - I would  _never_ purposefully - it’s all my fault, I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention - I don’t know why I thought -”

 

The annoyed look on her face  _melts_ into the softness typically reserved for Jughead, but he stills worries his bottom lip through his teeth to cut off the ramble, and anticipates her response.

 

“It’s partially my fault, I should have been holding on tighter. I think we all should have been paying more attention.”

 

He feels her breath wash across his face and slowly realizes that he is mere inches away from her own. One of his hands is planted on the ground across her body, and the other is still gripping her arm. Neither of them speak, and awkward silence rings in Jughead’s ears while her eyes are searching his.

 

She’s biting her own bottom lip now, and it slips from between her teeth, red and plump from the abuse, and Jughead is staring. Something small in the back of his head reminds him that there  _was_ a plan in place, but he’s basically hovering over her whole body at this point and all original intentions are lost on him.

 

“Is Miss Betty okay?”

 

The small voice of a camper jerks Jughead backwards, and he too lands on his back, but scrambles away from Betty, who’s whole face is red at this point, not just her lips. He’s up and on his feet within seconds, clearing his throat and wiping the dirt off his pants while looking at anything but Betty.

 

“Oh - oh yeah Miss Betty’s going to be fine.” He stumbles over the words, and his face is hot.

 

“Can someone give me a little help here?” Betty’s recovered from her small bout of embarrassment, and the look on her face is cold enough it almost rivals that of Veronica’s. Jughead is about to step forward again when the other girl blocks his path and reaches for Betty’s hand.

 

“I think you’ve done enough, Jug.  _I’ll_ take her to the nurse for some ice.” He has the decency to look sheepish, but if looks could kill, he would have been dead under Veronica’s glare the minute he started making a fool out of himself.

 

Betty slings an arm around her best friend’s shoulder and they’re wobbling away from the group when Veronica pauses and turns around. This time, with an evil grin she says, “Oh, and take care of the girls for us while we’re gone, will you?”

 

* * *

 

“Hey Arch?” Jughead turns to face the redhead sitting on the log next to him, “What do you usually do when you fuck things up with a girl?”

 

“Well first I would - wait a minute, excuse me?”

 

“No offense, but let’s be honest, things have never exactly ended  _well_ between you and your past girlfriends.”

 

“Oh yeah, I knew that already. But since when have you had a girl to fuck things up with?”

 

“Well first of all, I don’t.”

 

“But you just said -”

 

“Okay well,  _hypothetically_ , if I did something, how would I fix it?”

 

“I don’t know man, I usually take your advice and just talk to her. Apologizing always works too.”

 

Jughead hangs his head in defeat. “That’s the issue, I don’t know what to apologize  _for._ ”

 

“Is this because Betty’s been ignoring you all day?”

 

“Obviously - wait, how do you know about that?”

 

Archie smirked in response, “You’re pretty obvious, Jug. You’ve been a nervous wreck all afternoon.”

 

“I have not.”

 

“Have too.”

 

“I’m not going to argue like this with you.”

 

“Well, you started it. Anyways, looks like you won’t have too, ‘cause here she comes.”

 

Jughead nearly falls off the log from the speed of his turn. Betty is walking towards him, ice pack in hand, and her smile spread more warmth through him than the heat of the fire. Archie claps him on the back and whispers, “You got this, man.” before shoving him in her direction.

 

She keeps walking, but nods in his direction to signal for him to follow her to the back row of logs, where no one else is sitting. With a tight grimace, Betty lowers herself onto the log and props her right leg out, gently placing the ice pack over her ankle. Jughead sits close enough to her that their thighs are pressed against each other, all though there is plenty of space on the otherwise empty log.

 

“How’s it feeling?” he says, gesturing at her injured ankle.

 

“Better, I’m supposed to ice it every few hours though, which is more of a pain than the actual sprain itself.”

 

“Shouldn’t you see a doctor about that?”

 

“I didn’t want to. One mild injury won’t keep me off my feet.”

 

After a beat of silence, Jughead lowers his voice and says, “I’m sorry, by the way. About making you fall and everything else.”

 

The loud chatter around them is enough to drown out their voices to anyone nearby, and Jughead hopes this time around the conversation will go as planned. Betty looks up at him quizzically, and parrots, “Everything else?”

 

“I must have done something to make you avoid me.”

 

Betty deflates and looks away shamefully. “Oh Juggie. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, you’ve been nothing but amazing to me. Ronnie’s just been a little overbearing lately, and I needed time alone.”

 

“Is that why you didn’t stay with her the other night?”

 

“Seems like everyone’s heard about that by now. I wasn’t even mad at her, only a little annoyed. It was a combination of things really, and I needed the night to myself.”

 

He’s straddling the log now, completely facing Betty and ignoring all other distractions taking place around them. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking.”

 

“No it’s fine, but...can we walk back to my cabin and talk? It’s been a long day and I kinda want to get out of here.”

 

“Of course.” Jughead scrambles to his feet in haste to help Betty stand up. He bends down and grabs the ice pack from her leg, tucking it under his arm before offering a hand and pulling her upwards when she grabs it.

 

Jughead walks back over to Archie and let’s him know where they’re going, and returns his obnoxious whistle with a middle finger and an eye roll before returning to the trail where Betty’s already started the walk back. Her weight is on her left leg, and Jughead puts an arm around her shoulder to balance her out, but Betty doesn’t lean into him yet.

 

“I can walk by myself, Juggie.”

 

Despite his previous misfortunes that day, Jughead is feeling lucky, and smile down brightly at her, never removing his arm from around her when he simply says, “I know.”

 

Her resulting giggle is enough to keep him smiling the whole trek back to the cabin.

 

* * *

 

They’re standing on her cabin porch, when the real conversation starts.

 

“The real reason I’ve been off lately is my mom,” Betty admits with a small shake of her head. “I needed to get away from her this summer more than ever, but somehow she’s still managed to ruin it.”

 

The girls are asleep inside, so Jughead doesn’t want to go in and talk for fear of waking them up, but it’s cold and late and he know’s that Betty is beyond tired. Instead, he puts a hand on the small of her back and leads her to the bench by the door. When she doesn’t drop down immediately, he takes a spot on the edge and tugs on her hand, whispering “come here,” until she sits next to him.

 

(Correction: sits  _on_ him, essentially. If they were sitting close by the campfire, then Jughead doesn’t know how to define this position. Betty’s injured leg is thrown over his left thigh, and her shoulder is buried under his arm while her head rests on his chest. Jughead rests a hand on her knee for good measure.)

 

“You know, she literally sent me textbooks! To read at camp because I ‘need to prepare’ for classes that I don’t even know if I’m taking yet.”

 

“Your mom terrifies me and I haven’t even met her yet.” He soothingly swipes a thumb back and forth across her knee.

 

“Please,” Betty scoffs, “like you would want to.”

 

“Oh no, I’m definitely going to meet her someday. I’d like to thank the woman who raised you, Betts.”

 

“I wouldn’t exactly say she did the best job.”

 

Jughead pulls away from her gently to make eye contact. When Betty looks down, he can see the tears pooling in her eyes, and uses a hand to tip her chin upwards. “Don’t ever sell yourself short, Betts. From what I know, you’ve accomplished so much over the past four years. By yourself, too.” He drops his hand back to her leg. “That more impressive than anything Alice Cooper could have taught you.”

 

She gives him a watery smile and replies, “Thank you, Jughead. I’m just ready to get out of her house more than anything. That’s why I come here every summer. But I doubt that even college will stop her from trying to dictate my life, I’m not even leaving New York City.”

 

“It probably won’t, but you’ll have so much more control when you’re on your own.”

 

“There’s something inside me that doesn't believe you, but the other half of me desperately hopes you’re right.”

 

Betty lets her tears dry in silence, and after the quiet has persisted long enough, she makes a move to stand, but a firm hand on her upper thigh stops her from doing so.

 

“Just a few more minutes, okay?” He’s trying to work up the courage to say something. He wants to let Betty know that she’s not alone without sounding like his own issues are worse than her’s. Logically, she would never judge him like that, and he goes for it. “The main reason I come here every year isn’t for the money. That’s a plus, of course, and it gives me the chance to spend time with you and everyone else I don’t see during the year, but that’s not all.”

 

“What is it, Juggie?” It’s her turn to sound concerned, and she places a hand on top of his to stop the nervous movement of his thumb.

 

He takes a deep breath and makes eye contact again. “I come here because it’s the only way for me to spend time with Jellybean.”

 

He breathes out and it feels like he’s been holding it in for the past eight years . The truth is that he couldn’t care less about the money or how it gets him away from home for six weeks, but his parents have been separated for years, and that means he’s been separated from his sister for years. With his mother and JB in the city, Jughead doesn’t have the money or time to visit them while taking care of his dad at the same time, but this is the one chance they give their kids to be together during the year. He would gladly drive from Riverdale to the city every summer for the rest of his life if it meant he could pick his little sister up and be with her somewhere safe for a short while, and he tells Betty exactly this.

 

“Oh, Juggie, I never knew. Thank you for telling me.”

 

“I should be the one thanking you for listening.”

 

Betty untangles herself from his limbs on the bench, and stands, pulling him up in front of her by his hands. She doesn’t drop them, but lets their intertwined fingers rest at her side and says, “I will  _always_ be here to listen, Jughead. Please don’t ever forget that.”

 

Her green eyes are so intense and her hands fit perfectly into his, and all of his senses are tuned into Betty. He feels even closer to her than he was when he covered her body with his own earlier that afternoon, and the distance grows even smaller until nothing is separating them as Betty throws her arms around his shoulders, burying her head in the crook of his neck. Under his nose, Jughead breathes in the scent of  _Betty_ and warmth and the slight smell of smoke from the fire incensed in her hair. His newly freed hands find their place on her waist, and he hold on just as tightly as she does.

 

When they release, Jughead’s hands remain on Betty’s waist, but hers have slid up to hold where his neck meets his shoulders, and the feeling is almost too much when he says, “That’s enough heavy talk for one night. I should probably go, the others will probably come soon anyways.”

 

She’s smiling like the sun, and even though it’s late and cold, Jughead’s never felt more awake and warmer. Betty drops her small hands from his neck and takes one step backwards, but Jughead isn't done yet. He should let let her go and get the rest she needs, but he has more to say and although he doesn't know  _how_ , he has to do something.

 

A little too frantically, he pulls her back, and lets one hand slide up to cradle the back of her head. She looks confused, but Jughead ignores it and without thinking, drops his lips to the soft skin of her forehead, letting them linger and move against her as he whispers, “Thank you, Betty, for everything.”

 

He pulls away for the final time that night just in time to hear voices growing closer through the trees. Betty’s eyes are wide and doe eyed, and just when he though her smile couldn’t grow anymore, it does.

 

His heart is beating furiously (as it tends to do whenever he’s around Betty these days), but Jughead has never felt more at ease than when she heads into her cabin and whispers, “Good night Juggie,” over her shoulder as the hint of a happy sigh teases the end of their conversation.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, each and every one of you are amazing! I got so much support after my last update and I cannot express how much I appreciate it. I won't lie, my heart was pounding writing the last part of this chapter, but I hope that means you'll all like it! Also, this is my little present to you guys because it's ya girls b-day today!! Keep the comments coming!

Betty is on cloud nine.

 

There are no words to describe the feeling that takes over her body when she steps through the arch that signifies the best six weeks of her life. She  _thrives_ at camp. She’s surrounded by friends and people she cares more about than anyone else in the city. It’s the simple things like waking up early to the sound of birds instead of horns, or staying up late without her mother constantly worrying where she was. Being independent and caring for a group of girls that she absolutely adores makes her giddy with pure happiness, and she doesn’t know how she would stay sane without it.

 

Her favorite part of camp though, are the other counselors her age. She eventually convinced her best friend, Veronica, to come with her each summer at the promise of  _plenty_ of cute boys, and it became their thing. There’s Cheryl and Nancy and Midge; girls she would never have had the courage to talk to before, despite turning out to love them almost instantaneously after first meeting. She can’t forget Kevin, who turned out to be one of her favorite sources of entertainment and gossip at camp, and there’s never a dull moment when she’s with Archie, Reggie and Moose.

 

But there is no competition when it comes to the person she looks forward to seeing every morning at breakfast in the mess hall, or the only person she’ll break curfew for to walk along the river at night with. She would love camp even if he wasn’t here, but the fact that he comes every year makes her never want to leave.

 

Jughead might vehemently disagree with her in his opinions about camp, but that doesn’t matter to her. It never has. She would gladly spend hours listening to him rant about how much he hates it here because that only means she  _has_ hours to spend listening to him.

 

It’s the simple things, after all.

 

Sure, she loves all the other counselors, but Betty is 99% sure she  _loves_ Jughead. From the soft pull of his voice, to the gentle looks he sends her across every room, and the way she can see him light up when she calls his name or leans into him when no one else is around. Betty doesn’t care what anyone else says about his attitude or the sarcastic tone to his voice, it only makes her like him even more.

 

It took time to get to this point though. She’ll admit she thought him cynical and pessimistic when they first met at 14, but being forced together for six weeks every summer is a great way to dig beneath those initial layers and learn the truth. And the truth is that Jughead can be both of those things, but he’s more than that too. There’s a side to him that only Betty has been lucky enough to see, and it’s soft and kind, passionate and caring and so much more.

 

She’s not averse to his looks either. He dresses in layers whenever possible, but even Jughead isn’t immune to the sun that bears down on them most days, and she is  _extremely_ thankful for the t-shirts and tank tops he hides beneath layers of flannel and denim. Then there are his eyes, so bright and blue that if she didn’t stare into them enough herself, Betty would never have guessed that they belonged to him. Long, dark lashes curl upwards and frame his eyes just the trees that line Sweetwater River, but his eyes are still clearer.

 

If she was allowed, Betty would run her hands through the soft waves that sit under his beanie all day. She wants to replace the long fingers that tug on that one strand of hair that falls in front of his face with her own.

 

But she isn’t allowed, and before this summer, Betty never thought she would be.

 

In her experience, if Jughead doesn’t want anyone to know how he feels, he won’t let them. Betty prides herself on her ability to read into other’s emotions, but she’s always felt a little lost when it comes time to interpret Jughead’s. And she likes to think that out of all the people he’s met through camp, he’s opened up to her the most, which makes her unbelievably happy and proud of him for overcoming his apprehensions, but in the end, she still doesn’t know what that means in terms of his feelings for her.

 

But Betty has to deal with her own apprehension as well, which isn’t for lack of others trying to convince her to make a move, but in response to the same hesitation Jughead has shown up until now.

 

Others, namely Veronica, are very much aware of Betty’s feelings for Jughead, and are not afraid to continually pester her about acting on them. She loves V, really, but there’s only so much Betty can take without doubting herself even more and overthinking everything.

 

 _“Betty, dear, that boy is head over heels in love with you. Literally_.  _He did some weird version of a cartwheel the other day, all because you said you had never been able to do one before! I mean, he frowned the whole time, but you would never catch him cartwheeling for_ ** _me._  ** _”_

 

_“It’s not like that, Ronnie.”_

 

_“Oh Betty, you want it to be though!”_

 

_“Even if I did, he’s never shown any interest in a relationship with me.”_

 

_“You can’t wait for him to make the first move, B. He’s too proud of his emotionless exterior to admit he wants something more.”_

 

_“That’s just it though, he probably just appreciates having someone who listens, but doesn’t want more than that.”_

 

_“Well, one of you needs to get your act together. I’m tired of his pessimism rubbing off on you.”_

 

_“Just drop it, Ron. It’s been a long day and I need to sleep. Alone. Can you take care of the girls? I’ll be in the counselor's cabin if you me.”_

 

_“Of course Betty, but know that I only want the best for you.”_

 

_She gave her best friend a tired smile and only said, “I know, Ronnie. I know.”_

 

She’s not proud to admit that she had ignored both Jughead and Veronica after their second argument about him, but she needed the time to come to terms with the way her own feelings has seemed to intensify after that night. She never wantedto worry Jughead with the possibility that she was annoyed with him, and she couldn’t help but drop the facade as soon as he showed up that day. He just did that to her. Even the fact that she fell off of a wall because of him couldn’t deter her, especially not after that night.

 

 _Oh, that night._ She learned about a whole new side to him that night, and if she wasn’t in love before, then she was the second he told her the true reason he comes to camp every year. Of course she knew that he was fiercely protective of his younger sister (Betty has had to pull him back from fights with the other boys who joke about Jellybean more than once), but this was a sadder and softer aspect she had never seen from him before.

 

And the way he listened to her rant about her mother and everything else she was worrying about was something that even Veronica couldn’t do for extended periods of time. He didn’t try to console her, but let her know that her frustrations were rational, and it was exactly what she had needed.

 

But the selling factor, the thing that made Betty’s heart thump until she fell asleep that night, was the kiss.  _God_ , he had looked so beautiful in the moonlight, and his eyes held something open and vulnerable when he leaned forward and mumbled against her forehead. She had felt the heat radiating off his body, and she wanted to pull him back into her arms all over again when he started walking down the porch steps.

 

It was the sign she had been looking for ever since her second summer at camp. She feels silly for pining that long and never once making a move, but Betty knew Jughead, and if there was anything that would turn him off, it would be unwarranted affection and attention. So she had kept it to herself for two whole years, which didn’t leave them much time, but Betty would take any time with Jughead she could get, even if that meant only the last few weeks of camp.

 

And if a listening ear, warm smile and calming kiss meant Betty could get, then she was going to take _._

 

It sounds selfish, but what Betty really wants is to give Jughead the kind of love he’s been deprived, and when she puts her mind to something, she rarely gives up, if ever. She’s spent too long holding back her own feelings, and if Jughead is looking for them, then the only thing Betty can do is give and make up for lost time.

 

So, for the past few days, she’s ramped up the secret touches and fluttering looks across rooms that makes the blush she loves so much flood Jughead’s cheeks, and today is no exception. In fact, today she has a  _plan._ Jugheadis usually the one who drags her out on late night walks, or asks to meet and hold her tight, but tonight, Betty is taking him swimming.

 

(Well, she hopes. So far that's  _her_ plan, but she's yet to let Jughead in on it.)

 

It’s midnight, and Betty is quietly walking across the campgrounds to the cabin Jughead shares with the boys and Archie. Curfew on weeknights is ten, but rounds are at eleven, so Betty is in the clear. She spends the time it takes to get there reliving every moment she’s had with Jughead that could have lead to something more and warmth spreads through her, starting low and radiating across her whole body.

 

She’s thankful for it too. She  _may_ have spent too much time thinking about Jughead, and too little thinking about the temperature outside. It’s not too cold that they won’t be able to stand the temperature of the river, but it’s justcold enough that Betty is shivering slightly under the thin t-shirt and shorts she’s wearing over her bathing suit.

 

And  _maybe_ , she just happens to be wearing the only bikini she brought to camp, and  _maybe_ it just happens to be the skimpiest one she owns. She had originally only brought it along to appease Veronica, but Betty had seen the way Jughead’s eyes wandered when she had worn it before, so she wasn’t going to complain if it was put to good use.

 

She reaches the cabin with images of Jughead permanently etched into her mind, and winces as the steps creaks when she walks up them. Betty would very much prefer if none of the campers wake up and see a girl in their cabin after midnight, and she knows Jughead’s bed rests right next to the door, so she should be in and out quickly and quietly.

 

The first thing Betty registers after she shuts the door behind her is that Jughead is sleeping. She hadn’t expected that, since he usually stays up late writing or reading, but she continues all the same. Sitting gently on the edge of his bed, Betty watches him for a moment, and almost reconsiders waking him up.

 

He looks peaceful. When he’s sleeping, the frown lines that usually appear on his face have smoothed out, and he almost looks... happy? The soft looks he reserves just for her are nothing compared to the sleepy smile on his face right now. It’s something she doesn’t see that often at camp, and she’s tempted to leave him be, but Betty’s on a mission, and she hopes a much happier smile will be gracing his face eventually.

 

With a gentle nudge to his shoulder, Betty whispers, “Wake up, Juggie,” and continues rocking his shoulder until his eyelids eventually start to flicker.

 

When his eyes open wide enough to register Betty in front of him, she almost throws herself on him right then and there. Even though his eyes are still half closed, Jughead focuses on her and the sappiest smile Betty’s ever seen slowly spreads across his face. In a groggy voice, he mumbles over a yawn, “To what do I owe this pleasure, Betts?”

 

With a hand over her mouth, Betty stifles the giggle that threatens to bubble up at how  _adorable_ Jughead looks right now, snuggled in blankets up to his chin, hair a mess on the pillow. “Oh nothing, just about to go swimming. Thought I’d stop by and check in with you quickly.”

 

“Swimming, at this time of night?” He shuffles around to sit up on his elbows, and pretends to seriously consider what she’s said, before looking her straight in the eye and asking, “Mind if I join you?”

 

“Of course you can come, Jug. I didn’t wake you up for nothing.”

 

With a half conscious wink, Jughead sits up all the way, and Betty stands to let him swing his legs out from under the covers. “Let me get dressed, and then we’ll go.” Betty turns her back to him, and hears the quiet sound of clothes rustling and Jughead shuffling around for a minute before he rests a hand on her shoulder from behind, and squeezes gently. “You ready?”

 

“As I’ll ever be.”

 

They trek down to the river in what is quickly becoming Betty’s favorite way of walking with anyone. Their hands brush unintentionally with every swing back and forth, and his shoulder bumps lightly into hers as they step over the uneven ground. When they pass through a particularly narrow set of trees, he falls behind her and guides Betty to weave through them with a warm hand on the small of her back that feels like fire through her thin t-shirt.

 

Out of all the things that Jughead does for her, Betty thinks that these simple touches say more than his words do most days.

 

It takes 15 minutes to reach the river bank, and the majority of that time is spent in silence. In front of them, lies a small dock that protrudes into the river, and Betty moves forwards, looking behind to see if Jughead follows. He does, like usual.

 

She sits on the farthest edge of the wooden dock, dangling her feet over the edge, but it’s too tall and her legs are too short for her toes to test the temperature. Jughead toes his shoes off and drops in besides her when he notices what she’s doing, taking over and dipping his feet in for her.

 

“Oh no, Betts. Abort mission please, this is  _freezing_.”

 

“A little cold water never hurt anyone, Jug.” She laughs at his theatrics, but he kicks his feet up in revenge and splashes her with the river water. She’ll admit to herself that  _yes_ , it is freezing, but she won't let him know that.

 

Jughead genuinely looks trepidacious, and for at least the fifth time that night, Betty starts to second guess herself, tugging nervously at the hem of her shirt. He’s still turned to her though, and catches the movement with his eyes, and then his hands. Reassuring fingers rest over her own for a split second, and their legs swing in sync off the dock.

 

Jughead has this way of making all of Betty’s worries disappear, even when he doesn't know what they are to begin with. So, she stands and her original plan in back in motion. Betty bends downwards and slips out of her shorts first, while Jughead watches. She tries to pull her shirt off the ‘sexy way’ that Veronica taught her, but in typical Betty fashion, it ends up with her awkwardly tangled in the fabric, spitting hair out of her mouth and wrestling with the shirt until she successfully pulls it over her head with a triumphant breath.

 

The look is back, wide-eyes and slightly parted lips that Betty  _really_ wants to kiss. Jughead’s still sitting below her on the dock, staring upwards with that look of wonder he always seems to have on whenever Betty does something bold like this.

 

He stands, although his movements seem trance-like, and follows her lead by pulling his shirt off too. They’re left standing on the dock, drowning in moonlight and each other. If this were any other situation, Betty would curl into herself with discomfort, but it’s Jughead, and she finally gets the chance to see how far down his blush really runs.

 

The only sound around them is the crashing of gentle waves against the dock legs, and Betty is aware enough that it brings her back to reality. She gestures for Jughead to follow her with a small wave of her hand, and they walk back the length of the dock to enter the river together. It’s not a rapid river, but Betty is small, and when they’re deep enough, she still struggles to stand completely upright. Usually, when they go in the river, it’s on tubes that get carried down to the other end of camp that the river flows through. Now though, she has Jughead to keep her upright. They’ve reached the point where Betty’s toes barely reach the river bed while her head stays above water, but Jughead’s feet are still firmly planted on the smooth rocks beneath them.

 

He see’s her starting to struggle, and with a hand on her back beneath the water, pulls her in, closer into shore and closer to him. “Ambitious much? Don’t get swept away with the river Betts, I’m not  _that_ good of a swimmer where I could save you if I had to.” He teases her, “I’m no Mitch Buchannon.”

 

Betty just rolls her eyes and moves closer, putting an arm around his shoulder for balance. “Depends on which version you’re talking about. I’m surprised you even know who that is.”

 

They’re about ten feet from shore, and Jughead wraps an arm around Betty’s waist stabilize her. “Excuse me, but Baywatch Nights was narrated extraordinarily, film noir and everything,” he throws back nonchalantly.

 

Betty turns, and she’s essentially straddling the right side of his waist, looking down at  _him_ for a change, and she doesn’t know which view she likes better. A little breathlessly, she chokes out, “Please, like I believe you’d watch that.”

 

He purposely bats his eyelashes at her, and tightens his grip around her waist under the water, fingers splayed across her stomach. “I’m a mysterious man, Betts. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

 

“Oh yeah? Let me learn then.”

 

* * *

 

 

They only stay in the water for another 30 minutes, but it’s enough for Betty. She’s shivering by the time they get out and back onto the dock, water cooling even more on her exposed skin. She doesn’t regret coming out tonight though, no matter how much Jughead will tease her about this for the next week.

 

At least, she doesn’t regret it until she sees that they forgot to bring towels.

 

Of course Betty would be so wrapped up in planning this (and wrapped up with Jughead), that she would forget to bring towels. She’s already pulled up her hair in the t-shirt you had brought to stop the dripping, but it won’t do the rest of her body much good now that it’s soaked.

 

Jughead seems to have caught onto Betty’s blunder, fully dressed and tapping his foot on the dock with a smirk on his face, and she faces him with a sheepish look on her own.

 

“I  _may_ have forgotten to bring towels.”

 

He just shakes her head and takes his shirt off for the second time that morning. “Here, take this for now. If you walk back to camp like that you’ll freeze.” She takes the warm and worn shirt from his open palm. “If you get sick, I’ll have to take care of you, and as much as I would love to, the only soup I can make comes from a can.”

 

It’s meant to be sarcastic, but when Betty replies, it’s more fond and sincere than anything else. “Thanks Juggie, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 

“Anything for you, Betty,” comes back with the same level of tenderness.

 

“But what about you? You have a longer walk back than I do.”

 

“I, uh, I think a cold walk back will be refreshing, you know?” The blush is back and in the blink of an eye he sounds oddly nervous.

 

“Right, of course.”

 

The memory of this night covered in the soft fabric and familiar scent of his favorite ‘S’ shirt keeps her warm on the way back to her cabin.

 

* * *

 

So, Betty is slightly shocked by the prospect of Jughead liking her back, but it’s also everything she’s wanted since he first found her crying in the bathrooms at camp two years ago, or since the first letter he sent her that summer. Like no other, he kept in touch like he had promised when they walked out under the arch together that last day of camp in August.

 

She didn’t  _walk in_  to camp with the intentions of falling in a slow kind of love, but it happened, like most things happen to Betty, without warning, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe after all this time, Veronica had a point in pushing her to look for more with Jughead. It felt natural, like most relationships probably should after building for so long, and Jughead's presence is enough to start and settle the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach at the same time. They may only see each other six weeks out of the year, but the anticipation of seeing him gain after a particularly stressful year is something Betty looks forwards to almost more than camp itself.

 

It's later in the morning now, and everybody else is awake with them, but only they know the secret morning they shared together. She is looking for Jughead again, although this time she doesn't know where to find him. She just wants to make sure he's still healthy after walking back across camp with wet hair and no shirt, of course. After all, she still feels bad that he sacrificed the piece of clothing for her (which doesn't exactly explain why she's still wearing it).

 

She really just wants to sit with Jughead at breakfast, something she usually reserves for lunch, but feels is appropriate today, given the circumstances. To her mild frustration, he’s nowhere to be found in the mess hall though, and she takes her search outside and around the back where the communal bathrooms are.

 

She counts herself lucky when she hears the familiar sound of Jughead's voice floating out of the door, and she’s about to push through them when another one voice registers in her ears from the same direction. Betty stops in her tracks, in fear of interrupting a private conversation, and makes to turn around and wait outside when she hears her name come from the second person speaking. This one sounds suspiciously like Archie.

 

Betty's curiosity gets the better of her, and she leans against the door to listen in.

 

“Come on man, if what you told me is true, Betty is totally down for anything you want with her.”

 

He's right of course, and Betty strains her ears to hear the response, but when Jughead replies, something colder that the river they were in only a few hours ago runs through her veins.

 

“How many times am I going to have to tell you, Arch. There’s  _nothing_ going on between Betty and I.”

 

Betty feels like she’s been hit by a truck.

 

Nothing.  _Nothing_ going on between them? How could he - she feels like a joke. Fawning over him for days and weeks and  _years_ when apparently 'nothing' is going on between them. Something sour and vile rises in her throat and Betty wants to throw up.

 

 _Fuck_. How could she have thought he actually liked her. Of course Jughead didn’t do relationships. He's never shown interest in any girls before, and it's not like he was rushing to make any moves. Maybe he was right, she didn’t know as much about him as she thought, if this is what he calls 'nothing'. If this is nothing, Betty doesn't know if she wants  _something_ at all.

 

She's torn between running to find Veronica, or disappearing in her cabin and ignoring everyone for another day. Neither seems appealing, and the one person who she could run to without judgement in a time like that is currently indisposed, arguing about 'nothing' with Archie in the bathroom.

 

Betty doesn’t remember when the voices stopped, or when the door opened, but all of a sudden he’s standing in front of her, matching a person to the voice and everything seems ten times more real. He has a shocked look on his face, but she can only imagine how her own looks right now, jaw dropped and tears welling in her eyes, lip twitching in fear and sadness.

 

He opens his mouth as if to say something, and his entire face shatters. Betty can immediately tell that he knows she's heard everything, but the broken look on his face is nothing compared to the way her whole body and mind has been torn to pieces. His arms twitch like he wants to reach out, and grab their favorite place on her waist, but she shoves past him, knocking their shoulders violently, and escapes into the bathroom where it all took place. She's leaning against the locked door, taking practiced breaths to steady the hurried rise and fall of her chest. Everything hurts, her lungs, her head, her palms, but the emotional pain is unlike anything physical she's ever felt.

 

The last thing she hears before bursting into tears is a choked " _Betty,"_ and the sound of his head hitting the opposite side of the bathroom door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot apologize enough for taking literally _months_ to update this story. I still love it so much and I love all the lovely comments I've gotten recently, I'll start replying to them all now! Thank you and here you go! Hopefully I've still got the voice and everything else down, so comments are extremely appreciated to let me know if it's still as good as y'all remember.
> 
> The song I relied on to get me through this chapter is Stay In My Corner by The Arcs. Find me on Tumblr @twilightvxen.

Jughead never wanted to fall in love, but to be honest, the real reason he continues to deny everything that is painfully obvious to him at this moment is that he’s _scared._ Scared of what it means and if it’s real and if Betty really wants him. In his experience ‘I love you’ are the first words after hours of radio silence since slamming trailer doors and bottles against walls. The pause before his mother returned the sentiment to his father was more telling than the words itself, and the look of defeat that followed solidified Jughead’s resolution to never fall in love from that point forward.

 

He promised himself that he would _never_ be the cause of someone else’s pain and regret.

 

And for a promise made at such a young age, he did a fantastic job at keeping it until the warmth of Betty Cooper’s hair and skin and smile began to defrost the icy glare he aimed at anyone who so much as looked his way. Like most thing’s left to warm, it took time for him to be able to look at her without cursing himself for chipping away at the foundation of his promise. Four years later though, just the thought of her smile melted him into putty, ready to be remolded in love by the soft twist and pull of her fingers between his own.

 

Now that he looks back, there have been countless times where the words have threatened to bubble up and out of his throat, when the heat from Betty’s gaze was enough to make his insides boil with something he couldn't recognize.

 

That unfamiliarity is what keeps him up at night and whispers deviously in his ear every time he thinks that maybe this is what love is. The truth is, he doesn’t _know_   what love is, and he’s willing to admit it because he’s not eight years old anymore and his parents still fight but there’s one missing element to their routine arguments and it's the silence followed by those three words that taught him everything he knew about love.

 

He’s scared because maybe all those years of fighting weren’t love and maybe what he feels for Betty _is_. Years of overlap between his past and present notions of what it means to love someone finally caught up to him in that camp bathroom and he feels just as helpless as he did when he was a child and his parents fought in front of him and Jelly. Jughead’s done the one thing he vowed he would never do, become the reason for the trails of hot tears he knows are making their way down Betty’s cheeks, letting her down in a way he didn’t know he had the power to do.

 

And even though it’s a different person and a different door, the broken look on Betty’s face and the slam of the stall behind him leave an all too familiar sting in his eyes and pounding in his heart.

 

He’s motionless for the few moments after it all happens, and he barely registers the hand that lands on his shoulder above the ringing in his ears and the drum in his chest. When Jughead turns around to meet the disappointed look in Archie’s eyes, he knows a well-intentioned “I told you so’ is coming, but he can’t take it because _he does know_. He knows that he loves Betty, and instead of running from the one person that’s helped him grow more over the past few weeks than he has in years, he should have been running towards her.

 

Even though he's not exactly running, Jughead knows it's a mistake when he shakes the hand off his shoulder and walks away from the bathroom to his own cabin with his head and heart hanging heavy. When the door closes behind him, Jughead yanks the beanie off his head and throws it to the ground with an unsatisfactory thump, but it only makes him want to laugh hysterically. He knows why his dad threw bottles and punches instead of _hats_ , because something in him wants to do the same.

 

_“_ We’re not our parents.”

 

It’s what got him through his childhood, but suddenly the mantra feels more like a lie than something to hold onto. He starts to laugh because he feels ridiculous for thinking he could protect Betty from himself because, despite his best efforts, he thinks they’ve ended up in worse condition than if he had let himself love her the way she deserves.

 

Time passes slowly until the anger subsides and Jughead can think clearly again. He thinks of Betty and everything she’s shared with him and how much he’s shared with her in return, not out of obligation, but because of his own desire to get to know her. How she taught him to take care of himself and put himself first because she more than anyone knows how important it is to put yourself first before letting others in. And he had listened, and he _had_ let her in because it seemed natural too.

 

Falling in love with Betty seemed natural.

 

Jughead regrets that it’s taken so long for him to realize that this year's old resolve to never fall in love was long broken, and he regrets that he’s been so slow to recognize Betty’s devotion to him, because if he had, Jughead would have returned it in a heartbeat. He regrets that he’s hurt her and himself, and possibly any chance they could have to be happy together. He regrets so many things he’s done wrong regarding their relationship, but he could never regret her.

 

The funny thing, Jughead thinks bitterly, is that he promised he would never be the cause of anyone’s pain and sadness, and without Betty, he would never be able to admit that maybe he’s let himself down too along the way.

 

* * *

 

In the morning Jughead wakes up to a sharp rapping on his cabin door. He had finally fallen asleep in yesterday’s clothes after his campers came back with Archie who had shot him a sympathetic look before leaving him alone for the night. He stumbles out of bed and all of the previous day’s events come flooding back to him when his feet hit the ground. His head aches and his mouth tastes disgusting. When he looks in the mirror on the way to the door and the continuous banging on the other side, the dark circles under his eyes are more prominent and his hair is a mess from anxiously running his fingers through it all night. He looks and feels the worst he has in a long time.

 

When he finally yanks the door open, a groan escapes past his lips because he was wrong if he thought this day couldn’t get any worse. Standing in front of him are Veronica and Cheryl, both immaculately dressed, and Kevin, who somehow looks more pissed than both of the girls combined (although it helps that Cheryl is inspecting her nails with a look on her face that says she would rather be anywhere but here).

 

Without warning, the hand that Veronica has raised to knock on his door shoots forwards and grabs Jughead’s shirt in a vice grip, yanking him out of the cabin and onto the porch with strength and speed that Jughead still isn't used to. There’s a split second of silence after the door closes behind him before Jughead winces as he is hit with an onslaught of raised voices and cursing from Veronica and Kevin.

 

“How dare you tell Betty that there’s nothing between you!”

 

“Everyone knows for a fact that you’re head over heels for her!”

 

“God, you can be a real _dumbass_ sometimes Jughead Jones.”

 

“Were you trying to hurt Betty on purpose?!”

 

“I swear to god if I knew your real name you would regret the day you were ever _born_ for treating Betty like that!”

 

He cowers under the yelling and mildly thinks it was pointless for him to come outside because the two of them combined are loud enough to wake up half of the camp. After a minute of non-stop insults, both Veronica and Kevin are breathing heavily, chests rising and falling in a sweet moment of calm before Veronica opens her mouth again to continue the barrage.

 

Instead, Cheryl, who's been surprisingly quiet, finally looks up from her nails and throws her hair over her shoulder. Jughead barely has time to wonder why she hasn’t jumped at the chance to insult him before she smirks and calmly says, “It’s Forsythe. If you were wondering,” before returning to inspect the ends of her hair.

 

Veronica’s jaw drops in confusion before Cheryl elaborates, “What? Daddy owns the camp, I have access to all of your personal files.” Without another glance, she turns to walk down the porch steps, hitting Jughead with a whip of her hair before calling over her shoulder, “You’re an incredibly dim-witted buffoon for not taking my advice, by the way,” and continuing in the direction of her own cabin without further discussion.

 

When Jughead refocuses on the situation in front of him, his vision is bombarded by Veronica and Kevin with their hands crossed in front of themselves and accusatory looks on their faces.

 

Following a stare down, Veronica is the first to bite, “explain yourself before I have to get it out of you by force.”

 

“Is Betty okay?” Jughead is surprised by the raw sound in his own voice, but he hopes it helps the concerned tone he’s trying to convey because he genuinely wants to know how Betty is. It was the last thing on his mind last night and the first thing this morning because Jughead would hate himself if she was suffering.

 

It works, and the hardened look in Veronica’s eyes softens for a moment and her words aren’t as harsh when she replies, “Not good, but you know Betty, she’ll soldier through it until she can’t handle the pain anymore,” the contempt returns when she continues, “it doesn’t help that you ran out on her yesterday without an explanation.”

 

And that’s what gets him, because he _does_ know Betty, and he is one hundred percent sure that she’ll try to act like everything is normal, but her internal pain will show in the hidden clench of her fists and Jughead is horrified to think that she’ll try to cope the only way she knows how _because of him._

 

Kevin seems to understand the look of sickness that dawns over his pale face first, and quickly reassures, “she hasn’t – yet, if that’s what you’re thinking about,” motioning to his hands, “we checked this morning before we came over here.” The relief that washes over Jugheads face comes with an audible sigh, and Kevin tilts his head, raising his eyebrows as if appraising Jughead's reaction. “You know, I’m always one for a little bit of relationship drama, but you two weren’t in a relationship to begin with, so what happened?”

 

Jughead is desperate for the chance to explain himself, but not to Veronica and Kevin, although he knows he can’t get to Betty without getting their approval first. So, he concedes, “that’s exactly what I meant when she heard me say there was nothing between us. _Obviously_ there’s something there, I lov- I would _never_ lead Betty on like that.” His voice hardens with every word, but when Jughead looks down at his bare feet he adds quietly, “I’ve told her things about my family that not even Archie knows.”

 

And if Veronica knows anything about Jughead, it would be that Archie has been his confidant for years, and vice versa. So, the admission breaks her angry façade, and she places a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder before smiling, “Then how are you going to get your girl back?”

 

* * *

 

Jughead would be an even bigger idiot than he already is if he didn’t take his own advice and simply try to talk things out with Betty. His parents had set the bar pretty low in terms of communication, but he reminds himself that they’re not their parents and he’s _eager_ to talk to Betty because that’s how he fell for her in the first place.

 

(He’ll sadly admit that he already misses the warmth of her voice and the light giggle that permeates every conversation they have, despite having talked to her less than 24 hours ago.)

 

So that same morning Jughead makes his way to the cabin that Betty shares with Veronica, who pointedly agreed to steer clear of the area for the rest of the morning after she finished accosting him. He's too late though, because when he arrived at the cabin the doors were locked and the lights were off. He chalked it up to coincidence that he didn’t run into her at all that morning as usual, but by lunch, Jughead’s attempts were starting to feel ridiculous without any success.

 

At breakfast, Betty had sat between Ethel and Kevin, who had to decency to look a little shameful for occupying the space next to her that was usually reserved for Jughead. She barely looked up from her plate the entire meal, only glancing up to show interest in whatever stories her campers were telling, so Jughead had no chance to make eye contact with her all morning. Afterwards, Betty had immediately shuffled her campers out of the hall, and Jughead was helpless to follow her after receiving his second interrogation of the day from Archie.

 

Now, at lunch, as Jughead makes a beeline for the open seat next to Betty, she looks in his direction for the first time all day and jumps from her seat in favor of squeezing between the Archie and Veronica further down the table, interrupting their heated conversation and leaving Jughead in the dust.

 

A scowl cements itself across Jughead’s face as he returns to his own campers table, and he hasn’t felt this small in years. He understands why Betty wants to avoid him at all costs, but it still hurts. Hurts to know that she can’t even stand to _look_ at him when they used to stare at each other across the room, her making funny faces at him that would melt the frown off his face, and him rolling his eyes fondly in response because nothing about Betty could ever annoy him.

 

But the worst part is knowing that he hurt _her_. The one person who deserves all of the love and respect he could offer, who gives relentlessly to others without expecting anything in return. And the thing is, there’s only one person in the world that Jughead would want to tell this to, and she can barely stand to be in the same room as him anymore.

 

His optimism from the morning dissipates quickly, and Jughead wonders why he even thought Betty would be willing to see him in the first place. She successfully avoids him through the afternoon and dinner, and even though its progress, it doesn’t feel like a win when Jughead catches her looking at him with sadness in her eyes and dark circles under them at the campfire later that night. 

 

Truth be told, Jughead would be impressed by Betty’s commitment to avoiding him if he weren’t desperate for the slightest bit of contact from her. At this point Jughead doesn’t even care if she isn’t willing to hear him out, he would give anything to be back on speaking terms with her, whether only as friends or something more. In reality, what he wants more than anything is just _Betty,_ in any way, shape or form.

 

He spends the rest of the night aiming what he knows are sickeningly longing looks at her over the campfire, but he couldn’t care less about what he looks like at this point. She gets up when the fire and his resolve are dying, and Jughead makes one last ditch effort to get corner her but is quickly stopped by a wall of pearls and designer clothing before he can follow her by more than a few feet.

 

“Give it a rest, Jug.” Veronica herself sounds slightly defeated, but not completely without hope when he says, “Betty just needs to sleep on it. Give her the night alone and try again tomorrow, she’s too tired to handle any more stress right now.”

 

She’s right, and it makes him realize that he's also beyond exhausted when he can’t bring himself to argue with her. Instead, Jughead drops his shoulders and sighs, earning a sympathetic smile from Veronica who steps aside to let him pass, knowing he won’t go after Betty anymore today.

 

Aware of himself for the first time all day, Jughead realizes that his entire body aches and his head is pounding with built up stress, so he takes Veronica’s advice and leaves the campfire in favor of his own cabin for the rest of the night. When he gets there, the campers are sound asleep and the cabin is eerily quiet. His bed is also made, which he doesn’t remember doing this morning, but after a moment of deliberation recalls that he slept on top of the sheets last night because he had been too frustrated to get in them.

 

When he pulls the covers back to climb in bed for the night, he’s stopped by the sight of his journal peeking out from under his pillow. He doesn’t usually keep it there, and picks the back book up to throw it aside under the bed frame for the night. The throw is bad though, and the book flips open on the floor. When he goes to close it and shove it further away, a few familiar words catch his eye and suddenly Jughead knows exactly what to do to gain Betty’s trust again.

 

~

 

Jughead wakes up the next morning in a significantly better mood than the previous day. He finally has himself to thank, because for once his journal will be of use to someone other than himself.

 

Betty has been asking to read his writing as long as he’s had the old journal, and under other circumstances, he might have let her. He just couldn’t let Betty open the book filled with page after page of prose purely dedicated to her hair and her smile and her everything that he could think of to write about.

 

(He feels quite ridiculous for denying his feelings for so long, when the obvious was right in front of him, and written by him too, the entire time.)

 

Jughead can only pray that this will work, and Betty will finally realize just how gone on her he actually is.

 

He leaves breakfast early that day with the book tucked under his arm and all the hope in the world. With Betty still actively avoiding him, Jughead has time to break into the girl's cabin and leave the book on her bed, begging to be read by the person who occupies the majority of its contents. Like the day before, Jughead doesn’t talk to her all day, but this time it’s because he hasn’t seen her since breakfast. He’s not too worried, but Veronica saves the day again when she winks at him over dinner and tells him that Betty’s been holed up in the cabin all day, smiling ridiculously at some ratty old journal that she won’t share with her.

 

At night, Archie and Veronica head off to the docks across the camp, and Jughead puts the kids to sleep in an attempt to pay Archie back for all the times he’s had to be alone with them this summer. When Jughead knows they’re all sleeping for real, and not faking like they tend to do, he quietly sneaks out of the front door and starts the five-minute trek across the campgrounds to the place he always shares with Betty on nights like these.

 

Jughead sits in their hammock for hours. He nearly dozes off a few times, but he knows that when Betty is ready to talk, this is the first place she’ll try to find him and he needs to be ready for her when that time comes. By midnight though, the nerves have finally caught up to him, and Jughead wants to admit defeat for the final time when the light sound of leaves crunching underfoot catches his attention.

 

He’s scared to turn around in case it isn’t Betty after all and he’s made a fool of himself for waiting in the cold for hours, hoping for something that would never happen thanks to his own unwarranted obstinacy regarding their relationship. Luckily, facing the music isn't as bad as he's made it out to be, because a soft voice floats through the air and it's a tune Jughead would gladly listen to on repeat.

 

 “Okay Jug. I’m ready to talk.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm baaaaack!! I feel like that gif from america's next top model where the girl comes bouncing through the door. First, I want to apologize for deleting my other fic, it was poorly planned and I didn't enjoy writing it without a clear layout for where it was going. Once I finish this one, I might try and work out the logistics on For One Night. I have a few chapters of this fic already written, but I won't post them everyday because I want to give myself time to finish writing another chapter before posting the next one. Thanks for reading and all the support, I love you all and I apologize for the lack of Betty in this first chapter, but don't worry, she'll be there soon! Find me on tumblr @twilightvxen.


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